Sarenith 2nd, 4711

Right under their nose the whole time!

Following the tremendous battle in the inner heart of Cathedral of Blades, Haza,Torquemada, and Ramirez limped their way out of the smoky, blood-stained room, desperately weak and in dire need of rest.

As they backtracked through the underground catacombs, their worst fear was running into another significant force of Whispering Way minions, but their roundabout path remained clear and safe.

As they climbed up from the tomb from which they entered the underground, Torquemada suggested that they hole up in the vestry room above, instead of leaving the abbey grounds altogether.

They used some of the vestry’s furniture to barricade the door as well as cover the iron grate that led to the catacombs below, and settled in for an extended rest.

To their surprise, they were unmolested over the next several hours. Whether it was because their intrusion had gone unnoticed, or because none of the Whispering Way thought to look for the intruders in their own vestry, the time passed uneventfully.

Sarenith 2nd, 4711

Ambushed!

Early the next morning, the party prepared to venture back into the catacombs. Retracing their steps, the adventurers were once again taken aback by the lack of resistance to their exploration.

Had they destroyed the core members of the Whispering Way? Was the cult of necromancers vanquished?

As they moved back into the Urgathoan fly room, the answer became clear.

It was a trap!

Standing at the head of the altar, the lich alchemist seemed shocked at the sudden appearance of the adventurers who had tasked the Whispering Way for so long, but he was quick to recover and direct his followers to attack.

Embalming golems threw acid bombs while undead cenobites called down unholy flame strikes and slung death beams at the group as they hurriedly moved to defend themselves. The lich took to the air and shot green beams of acid breath from his mouth, catching Haza and Torquemada with it. The golems continued to press their attack, but were met by an enlarged Ramirez.

The battle was touch-and-go for the adventurers for a while, as with a double acid bomb attack, Haza was killed. Ramirez and Torque rallied behind their fallen comrade, and soon the moldering bones of the lich were cast down and he was destroyed, at least temporarily.

As they searched through the undead’s belongings, a strange ring caught Torque’s eye. Finely crafted and clearly highly magical, the silver ring featured a single flawless ruby set in the center.

Could it be?

Torquemada had heard of such rare magics, but never hoped to see it in his lifetime. If this indeed was a magical ring of wishes, Haza’s sacrifice would not have been in vain.

As Torquemada intoned the words of his wish, a powerful hum filled the air. Suddenly, standing beside Torquemada, whole and hale and ready for battle, was Haza of Sarenrae!

And somewhere in the dark, the lich Nalthezzar screamed out in impotent rage…

The Rescue

At full strength again, the party ventured into the rear of the chamber and through a set of heavy iron doors. The winding staircase behind led further downward, ending at another iron portal. The room beyond featured rotting gray ichor dripping from murder holes in the ceiling overhead and filling a massive pit with a vile, roiling soup of millions of maggots. A third set of iron doors beckoned beyond the pit, and a narrow stone walkway allowed egress around the pool of vile vermin.

The squirming pool was certainly an unnerving sight, but not as unnerving as the creature that rose silently from it’s depths and attacked the party!

It’s body is a writhing mass of squirming, slippery worms, the creature gestured at the party and in a clash of brilliant colors a prismatic spray cascaded over the trio. Torquemada was driven insane while burning acid and electricity tore at Ramirez and Haza resisted being turned into stone. As they turned to face this threat, the Worm That Walks lashed out with another prismatic spray.

Realizing they were outclassed, Haza told the others to retreat through the next set of doors, and as Haza followed them into the next room, he sealed off the tunnel with a series of_ stone shaped_ walls.

Satisfied that would give them at least some breathing room, Haza turned to see what waiting in this new area.

Black flames licked the walls of this huge ceremonial chamber. Three giant statues of Urgathoa loomed threateningly over stone pews and a processional leading to a black altar atop a raised natural outcropping. A dark pit boiling over with foul necrotic energy gaped at the far end of the room, and a writhing humanoid form hangs stretched over the well, stout chains tethered to each of its limbs.

A shrunken figure stood at an altar, it’s hands raised and singing the praises of the dark power of Urgathoa.

As he noticed the party, the chanting figures that filled the pews turned to face the adventurers. The gray, pallid countenance of Count Galdana stared back at the group from every face!

The battle was on.

Ramirez rushed the undead priest, but the Gray Friar was protected by an antilife shell, and Ramirez could not get close enough to engage in melee with the creature. Haza’s channel energies tore into the ranks of the undead Counts, and it was Torquemada who noticed that one of the undead chanters was seemingly unaffected by those positive energy bursts. He quickly surmised that this forlorn figure was likely the real Count Galdana, he maneuvered him out of the battle.

The party turned their attention to the Gray Friar, who moved forward to strike down Ramirez. But Torquemada countered by dispelling his antilife shell, allowing the fighter to get close enough to engage. Three gigantic blows from Giant Ramirez (who had enlarged himself again), cut into the priest, the final blow cleanly severing his skull from his body. The undead monster collapsed in a heap as the fires of unlife dimmed in it’s detached skull.

The Count had been saved!

But, unfortunately, the war did was not over.

As Haza and Torquemada tending to the magical wounds of the Count, he came to his senses and began to tell the party what he knew about the plans of the Whispering Way.

Count Galanda knew the noble, Adivion Adrissant well. Born to a life of privilege in Ustalav’s former capital city of Ardis, Adivion Adrissant seemed destined for greatness. His family spared no expense on his education, enrolling him in Caliphas’s highly prestigious academy at the Quarterfaux Archives. Handsome, cunning, and cultured, Adivion hungered for knowledge, but soon found himself bored in his studies, which left him dispirited and melancholy. The young scholar should have wanted for nothing, but by the age of 20 had dismissed structured academia as unchallenging, romance as little more than a distraction, and religion as a fool’s errand. Inspired by the nihilistic poetry of Krait, Perry, and Vhaags, the young man left Ustalav to explore the cultures of Golarion in hopes of staving off his malaise, only to return to his family’s holdings years later as disappointed as when he first left.

The Count had crossed paths with the man a number of times in Caliphas, but was shocked to find himself face-to-face with the man who was his kidnapper. The arrogant man took great pleasure in explaining his actions to the Count, and recounted what had transpired to bring the two men to this point in time.

Growing ever more morbid in his fascinations, Adivion began explorations into the hereafter; spending years acquiring dusty relics from forgotten museum collections, communing with spirits in secret seances, and delved into the study of necromancy, focusing his admiration on Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant. In researching the life and undeath of Golarion’s most wretched conqueror, Adivion felt kinship for a genius burdened by the weight of a worthless world, and whose supreme intellect and ambition allowed him to defy even death in the pursuit of reshaping Golarion into an existence worth experiencing. Soon, Adivion’s tireless research consumed him, and his acquisition of relics of the lich’s rule drained his family’s coffers. Well aware of previous futile attempts to physically liberate Tar-Baphon from his prison, Adivion sought some alternate path that might allow the Whispering Tyrant to return to the waking world.

Through his obsessive research, Adivion soon found that Tar-Baphon had sired at least one child while alive, and most importantly, that the Tyrant’s increasingly thin bloodline reached all the way through the millennia to modern Ustalav—and in fact, Count Lucinean Galdana of Amaans was a direct, living heir of the Whispering Tyrant.

It was on the return trip to Ardis that the seeds of inspiration—or madness—took root in Adivion’s mind. Witnessing a rite of metaphorical rebirth—the Procession of Unforgotten Souls—outside Kavapesta’s Cryptgate Cathedral, he struck upon the idea for a grand experiment. History had already shown that, when exposed to certain ideas, events, settings, and magics, Tar-Baphon had possessed the potential toreshape the world. What then would occur if a modern inheritor of the lich-king’s blood was subjected to the exact same ideas, events, and magics? Would it not follow that the heir would produce the same result as the ancestor? What if Adivion himself could recreate the Whispering Tyrant, and in so doing gaze into the mind of a force that rivaled even the gods? With such a dark muse—one indebted to him for its very existence—could he not emulate that same path to world-shaping might? Over the next several years Adivion launched fully into his experiment, courting the Whispering Way and seducing its leaders with the promise of the resurrection of their most famed alumnus. At the same time, Adivion delved into the blasphemous secrets of lichdom, taking the diff icult and unheard of path of researching not his own individual path to undeath, but another’s. After years of investigation, his delving, both scholarly and arcane, bore strange fruit: whispers from beyond death, a verse spoken from the spaces between death and the afterworld that formed the formula to an undying apotheosis, which Adivion dubbed the Carrion Crown.

With this knowledge, the proper components, and grim allies in the Whispering Way to assist him, Adivion Adrissant set his plan in motion—a plot to transform one of the lords of Ustalav, an heir to a profane legacy, into a resurrection of the Whispering Tyrant himself — and through the arch-lich reborn, to recreate Golarion into a world worth having a place in.

Sarenith 1st, 4711

Underneath the Cathedral of Blades

After a refreshing night in the pocket dimension provided by Father Christmas, Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez were well-rested and ready to continue their exploration of Renchurch Cathedral in search of their kidnapped ally, Count Galdana.

As they emerged from the wood-panelled hallway back into the fetid pool room, the archway behind them faded into the stonework, leaving only a solid wall in it’s place.

The acid fog that had last threatened them had dissipated and nothing emerged from the stinking waters that dotted the room. The party set their sights on the unexplored doors they had noticed yesterday, and chose to pass through the southeastern door. After listening carefully for indications that someone or something was behind it, they opened the door and discovered a passageway leading to a faintly-lit area beyond.

Moving cautiously, they found themselves entering a small natural cavern area that appeared to have been roughly worked. Dirty rugs and torn pillows covered the floor of this natural cavern, and a thick, heavy fog pervaded the air, glowing with a faint flicker of candlelight that carried with it an unusual stench of moldering chrysanthemums. Everywhere stared the mortared skulls of the dead. Lounging amidst the slowly-drifting fog, a half-dozen Renchurch novices in red robes lay, seemingly unaware of the party’s intrusion.

But it was not to last. One novice seemed to focus on the adventurers, and then he was screaming and pointing and they leaped to the attack. Unfortunately, whatever had created their seeming stupor also slowed their reflexes, as they were unable to mount any kind of effective attack against the party, and soon their bodies lay still and cooling on the floor.

Continuing on, the party came upon a large scriptorium. Ancient bookshelves lined the walls of this poorly-lit chamber, while a dozen haphazardly arranged lecterns stood in the center of the room. To the south, four large glass tanks topped with intricately filigreed brass caps held shriveled, mutilated corpses dressed in the shredded finery of nobility, each suspended in murky embalming fluid.

The party wisely passed on exploring this creepy room, and continued down a south passage, happening upon a barred iron door. Barred from this side.

Curious, Ramirez unbarred the door and cautiously entered the narrow passage he had revealed. It opened into a large, square chamber devoid of furnishings or decoration. The still air within the room was dry and carried the sharp tang of foul-smelling smoke. Ramirez immediately noticed the six dark robed figures standing motionlessly around the room, and held his blade defensively as the Bodaks raised their heads in unison, attempting to catch the mortal fighter in their death gazes!

Ramirez was staggered from their attack and went on the offensive, his heavy sword cutting into these otherworldly foes. Haza and Torquemada pushed their way into the room to assist, but were sorely pressed in the close confines. Waves of exhaustion swept over the party as the battle continued, followed by bouts of sickness that afflicted Ramirez. The bodaks did not seem to be the source of these attacks, but nothing else revealed itself.

With one last blow of his two-hander, Ramirez finally cut down the last bodak, and the weary party moved to leave the blood-splattered room. But during the battle, the iron door through which they had entered had been shut and barred from outside again!

Ramirez slammed his shoulder against the heavy portal, but it did not budge. Taking a few steps back, he tried again, but this time there was no resistance as the door flew open under his assault. He stumbled awkwardly outside and into the pit waiting just beyond the door.

He landed with a thud far below, groaning as the breath was knocked out of him. And then the walls of the pit slammed tight around his body, the heavy stone crushing into his body. Haza yelled from above, tossing a rope down and urging Ramirez to get out! He struggled to his feet as the walls receded and began to climb, but was caught halfway up again as the walls slammed shut again. He struggled on, scrambling over the top of the hungry pit as it slammed shut once more.

The party moved south away from the magical trap, bypassing another western corridor in favor of another that continued to the south.

They emerged into a larger room.

Smoothly polished skulls yellowed with age gazed from countless small alcoves perforating the stone walls of this chamber from floor to ceiling. The collection contained specimens from many races though all of the skulls were missing their jawbones, which lay on the lowest shelves beneath the skulls.

The party passed through the room, leaving the numerous skulls undisturbed.

The next connecting corridor led due east, into a chamber where rotting corpses were stacked like cordwood and rose halfway to the ceiling, threatening to collapse inward because of the path something had made, or rather chewed, through the pile. The stench of rot was overwhelming, and insects buzzed in the air like an oily cloud.

The party gasped on this thick, cloying air, but pushed onward, when something erupted out of a wall of corpses – an enormous, spider-like creature that had three clawed tails and eight legs connected by leathery webs of flesh.

Torquemada recognized the creature as a Qlippoth. Once rulers of the Abyss, the Qlippoths were overthrown when the souls of mortal sinners arrived and transformed into the first demons.

The creature rushed forward and attacked ferociously, and Ramirez fought off it’s ferocious assault while Haza and Torquemada struggled to penetrate it’s spell resistance. Then a cone of cold blasted into the party.

Then, as Torquemada maneuvered into a better position, he noticed something standing behind them casting a spell. It was apparently unseen by the others, but revealed by his see invisibility magic.

Torquemada lashed out at the creature, trying to catch it unawares, but it swiftly recovered from it’s surprise at being detected. It jumped back into the corridor and snarled at Torque:

“Well played, Inquisitor. But the battle is not yet over. Better tend to your friends, " intoned the werewolf-like spellcaster. And then it stepped back and dimension doored away.

Torque had now way to track the creature, and so returned to help fight the Qlippoth just as Ramirez went down under it’s claws. Torque distracted the monster while Haza healed Ramirez, who was quick to rejoin the fray.

This time, it was the Qlippoth who fell into the embrace of death.

The Urgathoan Fly

Undaunted, the party pressed on, leaving the piles of corpses and the corpse of the Qlippoth behind. They moved down a short corridor through a set of large double doors.

The ruddy glow of smoldering embers cast strange shadows on this chamber’s walls. Beyond, rows of cracked stone pews marble steps led to a raised dais encapsulating a large fire pit. Standing over the pit was an enormous iron statue of a fly; wretched screams echoing from within as some living creature was roasted alive inside the grotesque effigy. Large doors of iron stood in the wall behind the statue.

Three robed, emaciated figures stood arrayed around the fire pit, arms raised as they chanted unholy prayers in the name of Urgathoa, the Pallid Princess of the undead.

The adventurers rushed forward to rescue whoever or whatever was inside the burning iron fly, when trio of flame strikes came roaring down from the ceiling above, scorching the party. Ramirez staggered forward, attempting to charge the three undead clerics, but his rush was blocked as burning skeletons erupted from the fire pit to meet his attack.

Ramirez slashed his way through the undead skeletons, but the clerics continued their magical assault, and soon the group began to wither under the assault of powerful spells.

Then the iron fly moved.

The iron golem lunged forward and smashed into Ramirez, knocking him reeling. One undead cleric fell to Haza and Torquemada, but then the wolf-creature reappeared, blasting the party with another cone of cold.

The party struggled on against the three sets of adversaries. Ramirez went down, as did Haza, and Torquemada struggled to save his companions. Two clerics had fallen, as had the wolf-creature, but the golem proved tenacious. Finally, it also fell, crashing to the floor as the last undead cleric died screaming unholy prayers.

Weary, beaten, and exhausted, the party stood triumphant.

But what terrors remained yet to face underneath the Cathedral of Blades?

Desnus 30th, 4711

The Death Ray

The next day found the party returning once again to Renchurch Abbey – home of the Whispering Way cult and centerpiece of their grand plan to return The Whispering Tyrant Tar-Barphon to unlife.

Returning to the haunted church, Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez were once again greeted by cold silence and the feeling of watchful, but unseen eyes following their path as they headed through the ruined walls to the cathedral proper.

As they entered through the large iron doors, the faintest of whispers could be heard, as Torquemada was caught in a telekinetic grip and used as a weapon against his friends. The party was able to catch him and move quickly out of the foyer and the apparent reach of whatever haunted that room.

Cautiously, the adventurers moved through the desecrated nave, but nothing stirred as they proceeded past the tainted altar and stood outside the asphyxiating hallway once more. This time, the haunt was resisted, and the party pushed onto into another room, where they were greeted with an unexpected sight.

Compared to the decayed filth of the nave, this vestry was almost welcoming. Abused finery crowds the room, and heavy curtains, plush embroidered settees, rich rugs, and high-backed chairs basked in the warm light of a tabletop lantern. A large iron grate was set in the floor, a cool draft wafting up from below.

Before them stood the transparent spectre, behind which lounged a lady vampire – one of the minor nobles of Luvick Siervage’s Vampire Underground from Caliphas, Natisha Pavalanis.

The barely visible phantom appeared as a severely dressed noble with a tall, lanky frame, dead eyes, limp gray hair, and gaunt features. He greeted the party as they entered the chamber, introducing himself as The Chamberlain as he held forth his palms in a gesture of peace and warned the party against further trespass in the home of the Whispering Way.

Unfortunately, his words did nothing to sway the party, and they moved to attack. Three other spectres rose up from the floor and joined the battle. Natisha cast a fireball into the fray, targeting Haza, but the priest of Sarenrae laughed off the attack, his faith protecting him from the flames.

The spectres got in a few hits, their negative energy hampering the humans, but not enough to turn the tide of battle. As Torquemada cut down the Chamberlain, Ramirez’s blade cut deeply into the vampire, and she fell apart into mist and flowed out of the door – doomed to die before reaching her coffin back in Caliphas.

The party examined the iron grating in the floor, but decided to continue exploring the ground floor before proceeding further.

Moving out of the vestry, the party found another door leading behind the choir, and as Haza bent an ear to listen at the door, heard a long, low moan of pain coming from someone inside the room.

To action!

Ramirez kicked in the door, and the trio rushed into the room. A sliver of jet-black crystal pulsating with necrotic energy jutted from the stone floor here. A dirty glass lens set in an intricate but tarnished brass mount two feet in diameter slowly orbited the rock from several feet away, focusing the dark energies of the crystal toward four nearby chairs that seem more like torture devices than comfortable seats. In one of those chairs sat a slight man, skin sallow and dusky, who continued to moan as the necrotic beam flowed over his body again like a wave of vile darkness. Five robed figures stood nearby, overseeing the procedure.

The novices turned at the sound of the party’s entrance, but were unprepared for the strength of their assault. One of the novices attempted to turn the necrotic beam on Torquemada, but his death ward protected him, and the novices were quickly overwhelmed.

Torquemada freed the man from his bondage, and questioned him about his appearance here. He introduced himself as Cleves Drollac, a treasure hunter from Caliphas who had been captured and was being tortured by the Whispering Way. Something in his story did not sit well with the inquisitor, who after attempting to get a clearer answer, decided the man’s fate by cutting off his head as he sat helpless before him.

The group continued onward, entering the next room. Dozens of moldering relics littered this room, some haphazardly crammed into gilded display cases, others arranged with care and placed on tarnished stands. The group quickly searched the place. Torquemada discovered a bejeweled ceremonial headset that he took with him, but the group did not linger long and moved to the next room.

Ancient sarcophagi leaned haphazardly along the walls here. Stained teacups and cracked saucers were set on a low table, next to a matching teapot sitting atop a silver warmer. The gruesome remains of a desiccated human forearm lay on a small chopping block among powdered remnants of a bitumen soaked shroud.

Past this room, a small landing held a winding iron stair that led downward.

At this point, the party decided to return to the vestry to further investigate the iron grate they had seen earlier, hoping that it offered an alternative entrance to the catacombs below.

The Catacombs

Having moved the heavy grate out of the way, the group stood huddled around the dark hole leading down. It appeared to drop about 15’ and opened up into a larger, stone-floored room. Ramirez went down first, and the others quickly followed.

A single candle illuminated a large marble tomb beneath an iron grate overhead. The chiseled effigy of a simple foot soldier, rather than an armored knight, adorned the lid of the sarcophagus, and a gigantic sword, rusted and notched, hung from hooks over the tomb.

Wihtout warning, the bloody mutilated body of a slight-framed foot soldier manifested, his body impaled by several dozen broken, black-fletched arrows and wielding a massive rusted sword twice his size that matched the greatsword hanging near the tomb. The haunt screamed a silent war cry and attacked the intruders. The party quickly realized that their attacks were having no effects, and Ramirez made to grab the sword hung over the sarcophagus. He turned as the haunt attacked him, and was gratified to feel this new blade strike home, sending the soldier’s body back as it staggered in pain. Ramirez pressed his advantage, and as the soldier sunk to his knees, clutching his side, the figure suddenly disappeared and the air felt clear.

There was little else in the now-empty room, except for a small set of stairs leading out of the room. The temperature dropped to a cavernous chill as the rough-hewn stairs gave way to cramped catacombs. The smell of old decay emanated from dozens of alcoves containing broken skeletal remains, their eyeless skulls staring forward into emptiness with dead, vacuous gazes.

As the party tried to find their way in the many, twisting catacombs, they stumbled into a larger room. Torquemada noticed a faint sound of rushing water, when torrents of gray water littered with bones, dead flesh, and worms suddenly gushed out of the catacombs’ alcoves, creating an inescapable wave of water that quickly flooded the catacombs. There was a sensation of drowning in the churning waters, but the party resisted the haunt’s evil embrace. And just as quickly as the water appeared, it receded.

The group continued on, finding a wider passageway that led to a set of stone doors. They heard nothing, so cautiously opened them revealing a large room.

Irregular pools of fetid water marred the floor of this chamber like the exposed marrow of sawed bone, and a harsh acidic vapor burned the nostrils. Funerary urns sealed with thick red wax lined the perimeter of the chamber, and several more rested on a small island in the room’s center.

The adventurers moved into the open room, but nothing seemed to react to their presence. They began to move towards the two doors they had espied on the other side of the room when the attack came.

Two funerary urns flew up into the air over the fetid pools, smashing into each other and releasing two strange clouds of mists. Mists which appeared to be alive.

The evil elementals moved to attack as another pair of urns released even more Mihstus. As the battle was joined, another creature attacked as it rose dripping from a slimy pool. An Omox demon!

The party was hard pressed by the demon’s assault, as an acid fog filled the room, burning and choking the humans and the extra-planar monsters continued their attacks. Then Haza destroyed the demon with a destruction spell, and the Mihstus were quickly dispatched.

However, the group discovered that their original entrance had closed and was apparently sealed shut as were the other two doors. The acid fog still continued to eat away at them as they looked around for a way out.

The Christmas Room

Torquemada spotted the anomaly first. A small passageway beckoned from the side of the room. He was sure it had not been there a moment ago, but there were no other options at this point, so he led the party to the archway, revealing a wood-walled and floored passageway leading onward. The passageway was lit by the flickering light of torches or some other fire source ahead, and the faint smell of wood smoke, as well as hints of other scents, wafted on the warm air.

The passageway opened up into a square room, perhaps 20’ on a side.

The wooden floor was covered with lavishly decorated plush throw rugs, each depicting a winter scene – a group of figures ice skating on a pond, a festive bonfire scene on a pine-studded hilltop, and a rotund old man driving a sleigh pulled by northern deer.

In the middle of the wall to the right, a large fireplace stood, a cheerful fire burning in it’s depths. A small pot of gently simmering liquid (which turned out to be hot cocoa) was perched nearby, and an ample supply of firewood was stocked on either side.

The hearth itself was merrily decorated with pine cones, holly leaves, and sprigs of mistletoe. Three stockings hung off the side, bursting at their seams with oranges, apples, and other fruits.

Next to the fireplace, a round table and three chairs sat. The table was stacked with food – a baked pheasant, roasted prime rib, ripe round cheeses, fresh loaves of bread, and bottle of wines awaited.

To the left, three overstuffed couches covered with red and green pillows, blankets, and quilts sat next to a large wooden tub, obviously filled with hot steaming water, fragrant with mint and pine.

Against the far wall, a small wooden table stood next to the wall beneath a large portrait of the same rotund man featured in the rug. He was holding a large sack of toys in one hand, while the other was pointing to the table below. An engraving on the painting showed the title – “Father Christmas.”

On the table a small card read “Please take one. Have a Merry Christmas!”

Desnus 29th, 4711

Renchurch Cathedral

Having recovered from the attack of the hideous banshee, Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and the party retreated from Renchurch Abbey, returning to the rocky cliff area where they had camped earlier. Haza once again called upon the power of Sarenrae to stone shape a cave where none had existed moments before, and sealed the entrance behind them, preventing their discovery by the agents of the Whispering Way.

Luckily, their clever plan worked. The party rested through the evening, undisturbed by the festering evil that lurked nearby.

The next morning the party set out towards the Abbey once again. There was still no overt signs of activity this day, nor was there any evidence that their intrusion yesterday had been noticed. Even so, they approached cautiously, but nothing stirred as they entered the walls of the ruined abbey.

This time, the party decided to check out some of the other outbuildings before continuing to the cathedral proper. While many were crumbling ruins, an intact one near the gateway beckoned, and the party quickly infiltrated the grounds and entered the structure.

Inside, several gurneys and stained surgeon’s tables were pushed to the far corners of the main room. Broken scalpels, leech cups, and other bloodletting instruments littered the floor. A heavy, musky scent pervaded the stale air, and splatters of old blood stained the unstable walls.

Further investigation led to another room, this one empty but for a single, bloodstained gurney in the center of the room.

Suddenly, the image of a phantom monk with dozens of leech-cups applied to his torso appeared on the gurney. The monk then exploded in a torrent of bloody ichor and thousands of writhing leeches, which covered those present and began draining their blood. A wave of magical weakness swept through the run, as everyone lost blood to the horrifying haunt.

The party quickly retreated and decided to leave the building. As they left out of the front door, however, they noticed that the doorway was now bracketed by two withered and gnarled oak trees. Trees that had not been there a few minutes before. Were it not for the images of sinister faces peeking out from their dark gray bark, they would have looked like any other ragged oak tree. That and the fact their bare branches hosted several desiccated corpses whose rusted armor bore the faint remnants of crusader heraldry.

Before the adventurers could react, a roar rang out from overhead, as a large figure came hurtling down from the rooftop, landing with a heavy shuddering thud on the soft earth. This giant’s maw contains a pair of dripping tusks, but it was it’s gangly third arm that made its appearance truly bizarre.

The Athach and Quickwoods fell on the party, attempting to destroy these invaders in the lands of the Whispering Way. But these were seasoned adventurers, and no so easily dispatched. The evil trees soon fell to blade and spell, and the outmatched giant fared no better.

The group decided to press on to the Cathedral itself at this point. In the center of the monastery’s grounds, the cathedral of Renchurch sat perched on a scabby crust of crumbling rock, the black spines of its blood-soaked blades spearing into the stormy sky. The cathedral’s exterior walls were constructed in grand gothic style, but appeared ruined and even collapsed in places. The outer walls incorporated tens of thousands of broken blades into their construction.

Two massive iron doors constructed from hundreds of broken blades and ancient weapons formed the sole entrance into the windowless abbey. Ramirez led the way, pulling on the latch which easily opened.

Triggering the trap.

Silently and swiftly the heavy iron doors slammed forward, catching the party unawares and crashing heavily into their bodies. Luckily, it was not a killing blow, but powerful nevertheless.

A bit more cautiously, they moved forward, entering the redoubt of their foes.

The crumbled remains of a collapsed belfry littered the eastern side of the once-fine tessellated floor of this ruined processional, the shards of broken bells protruding at sharp
angles from the rubble. A half-collapsed archway revealed a massive congregational chamber in the darkness beyond. The faint hint of whispered murmurs pervaded the stale air like leathery bat wings.

A faint whispering could be heard in the still air, and as the party struggled to identify the words spoken, Ramirez yelped as he flew up into the air and began spinning around, crashing and battering into his companions. As they struggled to catch their friend, something landed on the floor of the room to the east. A flight of barbed arrows heralded the arrival of this new threat – a barbed devil!

The hellspawn tore into the group, as Ramirez continued to spiral around through the air helplessly. Finally, he was able to break the telekinetic grip of whatever had ensnared him, and he joined the fight against the devil, who quickly fell under the two-handed of the master fighter.

The party decided to investigate the room from which the devil had come. Inside, rickety wooden stairs spiraled around the inner perimeter of a tower. A huge bell of cracked bronze lay in the middle of the floor, long fallen from its mounts high above.

Ramirez stepped forward to investigate the fallen bell.

And then a ghostly bell appeared in the belfry, tolling doom for all who hear it with an earsplitting clangor. The shockwave swept over the party, tossing them violently to the floor and causing them to shriek in agony. And then it passed, leaving the group with bleeding ears and pounding heads.

Having had enough of this, the group decided to continue on further into the cathedral proper, and headed into the nave.

Hundreds of skulls decorated carved stone columns in macabre arrangements, casting their dead gazes over this empty chamber. High overhead, intricate buttresses like crooked bony fingers supported a massive vault, and the walls alternated between rich panels of aged wood and collapsed stonework piled floor to ceiling. A fresh, bloody smear stained the floor between the broken pews, leading to a chamber to the west.

Following the bloodstain, the group crept up onto a horrifying scene.

In the ruined sacristy, fresh bloodstains spattered the walls and floor of this rubble-filled chamber. A makeshift, bloodstained altar stood in the center of the room. Six voracious, bloated ghouls inhabited this chamber, feasting on the fresh corpse of a man seemingly dragged here from the back of the cathedral.

The creatures finally sensed fresh blood, and turned to attack the party, only to be met by the swelling power of Sarenrae as commanded by Haza.

Torquemada and Ramirez drew steel and attacked, but as Ramirez cut down one of the bloated figures, it exploded into a shower of blood and gore, covering the fighter in diseased flesh. Undeterred, he returned to the fight, and soon the undead ghouls fell to the embrace of true death.

There was nothing to be done for the hapless Varisian man, so the party continued their explorations, moving onto the choir.

Cracked stone steps descended steeply into this dedicated choir, which held a long table covered in the eviscerated remains of obviously humanoid corpses. A once-opulent bishop’s throne overlooked the choir from the east, its jewels and gold sheeting long plundered, and now covered in greasy, foul-smelling brown hair.

Waves of fatigue crashed over the party, and they turned to look for this new threat but nothing was there. Then an agonizing pain as the party’s skin began to shrivel and desiccate, as the moisture was sucked from their bodies from a horrid wilting.

And still nothing appeared.

Torquemada suddenly realized that their attacker was above them, and Haza cast light to see what they faced.

A meladaemon. A harbinger of death by starvation and thirst.

And then it swept down upon then, knocking the sword from Ramirez’s grasp and casting quickened magic missiles into Torquemada. The daemon moved off into the darkness, ahead of Ramirez, and grabbed his magic blade. It turned to face the enraged fighter and then simply teleported away!

And then it was back, attacking with scabrous claws and teeth.

The daemon fought to the death, cursing the mortals even as it was banished back to Abaddon.

But of Ramirez’s blade, there was no sign.

Haza suggested casting a Locate Object spell in the morning, and their next action was discussed. Finally, the party agreed to press on a bit farther, if only to see what was left in the cathedral.

Heading into the apse, the group spied the central point of worship in this dark church – the altar. This cracked altar smoldered with gray fumes; upon it were stacked foul offerings of bloody skulls, decayed flesh, and broken scythe blades.

Again, faint whispers filled the air, and Ramirez stepped forward, nonchalantly beginning to consume scraps of dead flesh from the altar. Torquemada and Haza were shocked, and exhorted Ramirez to stop, but he did not seem to think his actions unusual in any way. Finally, they were forced to push him from the “table,” and continued on into a nearby hallway as the evil whispers faded into the distance.

As with the rest of Renchurch Cathedral, this hallway was also filled with death and horror. Dozens of decapitated human heads preserved as crudely mounted trophies adorned the walls of this tall, imposing hallway. As Torquemada walked down it’s length, all of the heads came to life, their mouths gasping for breath. The party also found themselves gasping for breath, slowly asphyxiating in tandem with the haunted hallway!

Retreating now, the party backed out of the haunted hallway, and resolved to leave the abbey grounds for the day to rest and regroup. They returned to the site of their camp from the previous night, Haza once again using stone shape to create a secure cave for their protection and security.

Night fell across the Hungry Mountains as the party settled in for the night.

Desnus 28th, 4711

Renchurch Abbey

After the passing of the great black dragon, the party decided to pack up camp and look for other shelter. The dragon, while wounded, was still active and the possibility of it’s attacking again did not sit well with the team.

Torquemada let the way, searching through the dark and windy night for something that offered protection from the aerial menace. To make matters worse, a storm was rapidly approaching. And it was a storm unlike anything the part had seen before – a rapidly moving clouds with flashes of horizontal purple lightning.

Luckily, Torque found a suitable overhang, and the party hunkered down as the mortuary tempest came upon them, eerie lightning striking the nearby trees and ground. Haza quickly called upon the power of Sarenrae, walling off their area with stone shape, effectively sealing themselves off from the worst of the storm, and from the depredations of the black dragon, should it return.

Desnus 29th, 4711

The Knights of Ozem

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and the party resumed their trek through the Hungry Mountains.

It was a little past midday, when the group happened upon a small encampment in a shallow vale in the mountains. Four plate-clad men, bearing heavy weapons and somber expressions, warily greeted the party.

Their leader introduced himself as Sir Garvis Karst, Knight of Ozem. The order of Ozem was dedicated to Iomedae, and were pledged to patrol the wastelands of Virlych from the county of Lastwall. Torque and company introduced themselves and inquired as to the business of the knights.

Karst explained that the patrol was working their way up the mountain, in their usual manner, and happened upon a caravan of Varisian travellers. They were led by an old woman, who to their experienced eyes appeared to be a witch. They apprehended the hag, warning the caravaners, who expressed that the old woman was their ward against evil. The Knights of Ozem scoffed at this, pointed to the yellow-eyed twisted hag who hissed and spit at them as they took her into custody – explaining that the immediate threat was the witch. They sent the caravan on its way, with instructions to carry on to the border with haste, while the Knights returned to the Cathedral of Sancta Iomedae in Vigil for help in dealing with the witch.

Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez asked to see the witch in question, and were led to a nearby tent where an old women, with glowing yellow eyes, wrenched limbs, hissed and spat at the party from where it crouched chained to the ground.

Torque moved to question the woman, who seemed insensate, but then she reared back her head and spewed rocks from her mouth! She grabbed one and flung it at the inquisitor’s head, glancing off his forehead as she laughed.

Torque and Haza conferred, but the creature seemed to be something beyond their ken. This was obviously no witch, nor any other monster known to the group, yet something clearly was wrong here.

And then the answer was made clear.

The woman was possessed.

The group decided to try to banish the evil presence, and as they did so, a vile, yellowish cloud billowed forth from the old woman’s throat, and something materialized from the thick mist.

This human-shaped beast had a horse’s skull for a head, walking on cracked hooves and bearing the rotting wings of a carrion bird – a Leukodaemon!

With a howl, the daemon attacked, spewing a swarm of insects from it’s throat, and lashing out at the Knights and party. The battle was on, but the daemon was outclassed by the combined might of the Ozem knights and the party, and soon was forced to teleport away from the battle.

The old woman was grateful, but expressed misgivings as she explained that she had made a pact with the daemon for safe passage through the Hungry Mountains. The Knights explained her caravan had headed onward, and promised to reunite her with her people, as they started to break camp for their day’s journey.

The party also decided to move on, and resumed their trek up the mountain.

Desnus 29th, 4711

Witherleaf Barrows

The party moved on, and soon spied black smoke over the trees where the trail split. Discovering signs of wagon passage on the path, the group decided to investigate, and found themselves in the remains of an old village. In the center of the ruined buildings, a caravan of Varisian wagons burned, their inhabitants lying broken and burnt around the
remains.

With little warning, ominous clouds began rolling in from the west – another of the region’s haunted storms was imminent, lashing the party with a sudden burst of wind and rain as steaks of green began to flash by.

Haza created a shelter using stone shape, and the party hunkered down to pass out the storm, when glowing shrieking skulls began to wail and scream as they swooped down and around the party. With a wail of fear, Ramirez threw down his sword and ran screaming into the night…

At this point, Haza noticed the Varisians scrambling in fear from the nearby ruins. Apparently, not everyone had been killed. Haza remained behind to herd the people to safety as Torquemada braved the poltergeist storm to round up the fearful people.

Once assembled in the makeshift shelter, however, the people milled around Haza and suddenly rushed the cleric, overbearing him and throwing him to the ground, tearing and biting at him.

And the illusion was gone – these were no Varisian travelers. Or more accurately, they no longer were. No, now they were zombies.

Torquemada turned to help as he saw Haza fall, but was caught as an incendiary storm appeared around him – the unholy flames burning him deeply.

Looking around for this new threat, Torquemada spied what could only be a night hag, peering out of cover in a nearby building. The hag sent a stream of magic missles at Haza, who called upon the power of Sarenrae to burn all the zombies holding him down.

Torquemada moved to the attack, but two witchfires intervened, sending bolts of green flame at the inquisitor.

Haza meanwhile, responded to the hag’s attack with one of his own – a brilliant white glow suddenly illuminated the storm, and the hag’s scream was cut short as her body fell to ash, caught by Haza’s destruction spell.

That seemed to take the fight out of the witchfires, who were quickly dispatched by Torquemada.

And as suddenly as it started, the storm was over.

Renchurch Abbey

Once Ramirez had returned from his fear-induced panic, the group continued following the path up the mountainside, soon arriving at a barren plateau.

The ruined remains of old monastery walls broke from the dust of the Virlych landscape like jagged glass on a dirty barroom floor. Several guard towers reach feebly upward, their upper levels crumbling away. Only the sharp, bloodstained blades of Renchurch Cathedral gave any hint that the area is more than just a forgotten fragment of an earlier time.

The group warily entered the monastery grounds, circling the abbey proper in order to get the lay of the land.

A nearby stable was found to be occupied with nightmares, but the group decided that attacking the otherworldly beasts would likely draw the attention of others and passed up that opportunity.

On the western side, the group discovered the sole tower that remained standing, broken blades adorning its frame disintegrating into rust and discoloring its wall with reddish-brown stains. In contrast to these rusted implements of war, the stout iron bars of a prison cage rested within, a thick gate obstructing easy escape.

Suddenly, the party noted a presence behind them, and turned to see the spectral image of an elven woman. She nodded and introduced herself as Caelandlara, and inquired as to their business.

An uncomfortable conversation ensued, which was cut off suddenly as the ghostly woman suddenly rushed forward and attacked! The party responded in kind, but then the woman opened her mouth and began to wail! A banshee!

Ramirez fell to the ground, close to death, as Haza and Torquemada furiously counterattacked, striking down the undead spirit and rushing to save Ramirez from the clutches of death.

The party’s friend, Count Lucinean Galdana, now known to be one of the last descendants of the bloodline of Tar-Baphon, had been kidnapped to enact this plan. The Whispering Way planned to turn him into a lich – but not just any undead spellcaster. No, through the power of his bloodline, they intended to turn him into a vessel for The Whispering Tyrant himself. Tar-Baphon would live again!

Time was critical, so the party quickly set about preparing for their journey into the haunted land of Virlych.

The chain-bound steeples of Gallowspire—the stake in the heart of Ustalav—loomed over an accursed wasteland of shattered mountains and dark magic, a monument to an age of genocide and blasphemy. Spreading around it, tainted by proximity to the Whispering Tyrant’s throne, sprawl the scars of the arch-lich’s maniacal vision, a realm of ruin wracked by uncontrolled spell-storms and prowled by the abandoned miscarriages of unholy experiments. For the inheritors of this scarred age, Virlych bore more than just the wounds of history, for within its crumbling womb sleeps the architect of that dread epic, a deathless obscenity whose dreams still seeped forth to poison the world.

In the age before Ustalav became the killing ground of the living dead, the counties of Grodlych and Virholt stretched over the western arm of the Hungry Mountains and controlled many of the lands south of the Path River. Where Grodlych reached from the southern mountains to the coasts surrounding modern Vellumis, comprising much of the land now known as Lastwall, the smaller, rockier lands of Virholt spread southwest, continuing the border now guarded by Canterwall, halting at the shadow of the Fangwood. While Grodlych fell just as its sister counties to the east—and was ultimately ceded to the country’s liberators after the Tyrant’s defeat—histories hold that Virholt’s ruin was deserved, a price paid for betraying not just the nation, but the living. Although few texts recount the specifics, the count of Virholt bargained with the resurrected lich, selling his land and his people into slavery in return for his own salvation. What fate the traitor met remains mysterious, but many accounts indulge in baseless conjecture on fates just as torturous as that suffered by his realm. Much of the rest of Virlych’s history is actually the chronicle of Lastwall’s formation, with the Tyrant’s defeat by the Shining Crusade and the swearing of the protector nation’s oath to guard his grave-lands. Since then, the people of Ustalav have shunned the wreckage of their westernmost realm, the trauma of centuries past still all too real in the arcane storms, wandering ghosts, unholy ruins, and accursed creatures that brood and work the lich’s immortal will in those deadly lands.

Little lived in Virlych, though the realm is hardly uninhabited. While the eastern Hungry Mountains are known for driving rain and violent lightning storms, these take on a terrible aspect to the west, where twisted magical aethers imbue the harsh weather with seemingly malicious intent. Tales of living dust storms and lightning phantoms passed among those forced to travel near these lands, such apparitions sometimes being visible from miles away. Natural creatures did exist in Virlych, though the sparse vegetation and incessant storms make even the meanest beasts rangy and fierce. Small packs of mangy wolves, spiny beetles, feral rodents, and all manner of carrion birds scoured the land’s corpse in search of its sparse vegetation and trespassers slain by things with no need for food.

It was into this unholy land that Torquemada, Haza, and Ramirez Saul would now travel, braving the worst the land could throw at them in hopes of stopping the Whispering Way.

A trip to Barragaro Road afforded the group the chance to barter, wheedle, buy, and sell items of magical power to the merchants in the crowded bazaar, always with an eye towards the threat that awaited them to the west.

The day spent, the party regrouped at the Silent Hound, silently eating their meal and mentally preparing for the journey that awaited.

Desnus 27th, 4711

Marian Leigh

The next morning, as usual, Haza was up at dawn, greeting the first rays of Sarenrae as she revealed herself in her glory. He woke the others, telling of his plan to use wind walk to speed their journey northwest, and hopefully avoiding any unnecessary encounters along the way.

Borne aloft on the morning’s breezes, the group found themselves flying over the land, soaring over the forest trees and rocky hills at speeds far exceeding that of any horse. The ground flew by as they sped northwest, leaving behind the signs of civilization and heading into the stormy clouds that seemed to hunker around the Hungry Mountains that marked the land of Virlych.

Haza led the party north along the ridgeline of the Hungry Mountains, whose slopes were currently wreathed in thick stormclouds – eerie purple lightning, probably the effect of residual necromantic energy, illuminating the cloudy skies.

Spying a small settlement, the party opted to land and camp for the night. The small hamlet only consisted of a handful of houses surrounding a large manor house, replete with vegetable gardens, greenhouses, flowering shrubs, and fruit trees. The party was met at the gate by the gardener Geb, and led inside to meet the landowner – Lady Urora Demerrval – who was glad to have a group of men stopping by for a visit. Apparently, outside of Geb, the rest of the hamlet’s inhabitants were all women.

Torquemada was intrigued by this, and questioned a number of the inhabitants at to this disparity, but came away with nothing sinister – only curious happenstance.

The party was invited to spend the night, and readily accepted – Ramirez spending the evening alone in the company of Lady Demerrval herself, while Haza entertained the scullery maid that evening.

Desnus 28th, 4711

The Witchgate

The next morning, the group said their farewells, and Haza once again took the party to the skies, heading due west now.

The ground below began to turn more mountainous, and Haza turned southwest to regain his bearings to the location of the Whispering Way’s remote mountain sanctuary – Renchurch Abbey.

With a wrenching feeling, the world spun around and suddenly the party found themselves somewhere else, and no longer in Haza’s wind walk.

Instead, they were on a hillside, surrounded by thick forest. A gem-encrusted arch made of bleached bones stood on a patch of scorched ground, surrounded by withered oaks. Sickly ravens perched on crooked branches, their hoarse cries echoing in the still air.

The party moved to examine the arch, but their efforts to detect any emanations from the structure were stymied by the overwhelming magic and evil that seemed to pervade the very air itself.

Suddenly, Ramirez screamed as he was hauled into the air, tightening branches from the nearby oak tree pulling him up into the higher reaches of the tree. With that event, the other trees also came to life, their lashing branches pulling and strangling everyone within their reach – revealing that the sickly oak trees were in fact, hangmen trees!

The ravenous plants attacked without mercy, tearing into the party before they had a chance to prepare, but the group wasn’t made up of novice adventures, but seasoned professionals, and they quickly rallied and turned the tables on the carnivorous trees. One by one they fell to blade and fire, and soon only the blackened trunks of the hangmen tree remained standing.

As they bandaged their wounds, the party took a longer look at their surroundings, finally determining that they had somehow arrived on the other side of the Hungry Mountains – perhaps waylaid by the mysterious gate that stood before them.

Haza had not prepared another wind walk that day, so the group set off on foot, heading in the general direction they thought that Renchurch Abbey would be.

The Black Wind

The party spent the remainder of the day heading into the mountains to their east, finally discovering a rough track leading higher into the mountain range. Night had started to fall before they discovered a suitable clearing for their camp, and soon they were bedded down for a night’s rest, with Ramirez taking first watch. A storm seemed to be brewing, and the winds began to circle and roar amongst the treetops, howling and moaning into the fallen night.

It was a few hours later that Ramirez noticed the bobbing lantern light gliding through the trees. He quietly awoke the others, and soon the group was silently (or mostly silently) following the flickering flame.

A few minutes later, the torch seemed to alight on the ground and stopped moving. Torquemada made the decision to approach closer, and soon found himself looking down at a small dancing flame. No lantern, no torch. Just a small fire burning by itself in the night.

And then the blast hit him, thick viscous fluid burning and scorching and melting.

As he sunk to the ground trying to get the stuff off of him, the others came running up to assist, dousing Torque with the contents of their waterskins and looking around for their attacker.

But there was nothing there. The only sound was the roaring winds up above, and the only movement that of the wind-blown trees.

Suddenly, everyone realized that they had abandoned their camp, leaving a lot of their gear and items and armor behind. The group hastily turned back into the trees, moving quickly back to the campsite.

Luckily, all was as they had left it – there was no sign anyone or anything had disturbed it.

Now, it was Haza’s turn to cry out in pain, as a row of glowing magic missles flew out of the treeline, slamming into him as he began to put on his armor.

The party turned to face the threat, but once again, there was nothing there.

More cautious now, Haza and Torque began casting light spells into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of their attacker.

More spells were cast from the darkness, but wary now, the party was able to avoid their effects.

And then in a blast of cold, rotting wind, it landed.

Standing at least 15’ tall, the black dragon must have been at least 75’ long, it’s leathery (evil) wings expanding out another 70’ as it reared back on it’s hind legs and unleashed a stream of emerald acid at Haza and Ramirez.

Although hurt, Ramirez bravely charged the dragon, his enchanted blade biting deep through the dragon’s scales. But the dragon responded in kind, it’s claws and teeth slashing and tearing at the fighter, who fell under the massive assault.

But now, a fire elemental entered the fray, under the direction of Haza, freeing him to help heal their fallen fighter while Torque took a long-range approach to the fight.

And the distraction caused by the elemental allowed Ramirez to regain his feet and attack the beast once again, his weapons slamming home again and again.

Bloodied and hurt, the great dragon took to the air, roaring it’s rage into the howling storm as it flew over the trees, quickly disappearing into the darkness of night.

Desnus 24th, 4711

Beneath the Abbey

Having recovered from the harrowing events of yesterday, Torquemada,Haza, and Ramirez awoke to a cloudy dawn. Hastily, they dined on sausages and bread and made preparations to return to the Abbey of St. Lymirin.

They paid a quick visit to Barragaro Road for some vampire hunting supplies, and the trio set off north to the abbey, approaching the seemingly deserted structure from the riverside, intending to make use of the cave entrance they had noticed in their late night flight from the vampire Radvir Giovanni. Once they had arrived, however, the group decided to further investigate the spider-haunted shaft they had discovered hidden in the winery, and stealthily made their way up the cliffside to enter that outbuilding.

Preparing themselves to fight the spider swarm, Ramirez threw open the hidden trapdoor to reveal… an empty shaft. Of the spiders there was no sign, and the group quickly descended, expecting an ambush.

Pleasantly, there was no ambush.

The room beneath the winery was somewhat dusty, but there were no tracks in the room. A circular tunnel led north and branched to the west – both spurs ending in solid walls. A quick search by Torque found the secret doors in each wall, and the party decided to take the western spur first, emerging into a large ossuary.

Carved stone columns resembling angels with outstretched wings supported the ceiling of this wide, long chamber. Decayed bones and half-rotten burial shrouds spill out of ten five-foot wide alcoves in the chamber’s walls.

As they fanned out into the room, a voice ran out from the western end, calling out in greeting. A figure emerged from the shadows. Clad in breastplate and heavy shield, and wielding a finely crafted longsword, the man stepped forward. His armor bore the symbol of Iomedae which belied the vampire fangs that gleamed in the party’s light spells.

The man introduced himself as Halloran Idress, Holy Warrior of Iomedae (paladin), and explained that he regretfully could not allow the party to leave this room. Wary, but willing to talk, Torquemada spoke at length with Halloran, who would not budge on allow the party to move further into the abbey basement, but did seem willing to share information about his presence, and of the creatures who now infested the abbey.

Halloran explained that he once was a paladin of Iomedae, but was waylaid in Restoration Park while investigating the murders in Caliphas by the vampire Radvir. He believed that he had died, but awoke in the abbey having been turned into a cursed undead.

Radvir had apparently entered into a pact with two witches – Hetna and Aisa Dublesse, who were using the abbey as a headquarters while looking for the missing parts of the third member of their coven – a dead annis hag called Oothi, who had been dismembered and whose body the witches were reassembling to return to life. Halloran further explained that Radvir’s plan was to blame the vampire murders on the aristocracy of Caliphas, setting off a human/vampire war and allowing him the opportunity to destroy the elder vampires of the Underground.

When pressed further, Halloran informed the party that he was compelled to protect this entrance, and would have to attack if they left this room through the basement door. However, he had no orders as to the other tunnel entrance and exits. He warned that the witches were powerful, but also had the services of a blood knight – one Konas Esprillian – and that the witch Aisa had recently become a vampire herself.

When asked if they could do anything for him, the ex-paladin replied that he would like the chance to be redeemed from this undead curse, but explained that he would have to be freed from the witches’ compulsion and seek redemption at the Dawngate Memorial of Iomedae in Caliphas, after which he would seek the cleansing rays of the sun to end his life honorably.

The party agreed to return for him, and set off down the other tunnel, clumsily settings off a Symbol of Fear trap as they exited into a mortuary!

The mortuary lay empty and disused, covered in a fine layer of dust. A mural of a winged human woman with an eagle’s head covered the east wall – a statue of Saint Lymirin herself.

There was little to see in the room, so the party headed to the only other exit to the south, where a roiling fog was starting to drift into the room.

The Final Battle

Suddenly, a figure loomed out of the shadows to the south.

Wielding dual bastard swords and streaming blood from every part of his full plate armor, the blood knight Konas Esprillian charged to the attack! The knight spewed out an enormous gout of raw blood, nauseating Ramirez as it slashed at the fighter with it’s twin blades. Haza called upon the holy power of Sarenrae to blast the creature, when a wave of fatigue rolled over the party. As the blood knight pressed it’s attack, the air seemed to exit the room, and everyone began to suffocate. Clearly, something else was at work other than the knight, but of the spellcaster there was yet no sign.

The battle continued, and black tentacles appeared from the ground as Haza and Torquemada tried to exit the room. As they struggled to free themselves, the witch Aisa Dublesse finally appeared in the fog.

The vampiric witch blasted the party with a powerful cone of cold while the blood knight continued his attacks. The party was hard pressed until the combined efforts of Haza and Ramirez struck down the undead knight, and the group was able to focus on the witch.

The party was on their last legs at this point, but would not surrender to the evil witch. Weary, bloodied, and their powers and spirits exhausted, the trio fought on, determined to end this evil.

Suddenly the vampire monk Radvir was there, tripping Ramirez as he foolishly attempted to attack him as the monk raced by. As Ramirez’ body flew into the air, a powerful elbow caught him in his ribs, smashing him into the ground. As he struggled to rise, the monk’s foot lashed out and caught him in his ribs before he continued racing forward to pummel the cleric Haza.

The battle raged on, with Haza using all the power of Sarenrae to wear down the vampires.

Ramirez succumbed to his wounds, but the witch and monk were forced into mist form and blending into the mist. But the party was prepared, and recalled a sarcophagus hidden in the tunnels earlier. Haza recalled Ramirez from the brink of death, and they quickly returned there, to find the vampire witch fast asleep and healing.

It was to be her last rest, as the party quickly dispatched her, staking her and dragging her body outside into the sunlight to be forever destroyed.

All that remained was the capture of the vampire monk Radvir. Their search downstairs was fruitless, so they ascended up into the abbey proper to continue their search. They quickly checked the ground floor and then continued upward into unfamiliar territory, arriving in a large laboratory room.

With a manic cackling, the witch Hena swooped through the air on her broom and throwing lightning bolts at the party.

Another pitched battle ensued, with Ramirez and Torquemada being taken out of the battle, leaving Haza alone to fight the evil witch. But the power of Sarenrae was strong, and Haza slew the vile woman, rescuing his friends from her clutches.

Radvir’s body was discovered lying in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and the group wasted no time in staking him and preparing his body to be returned to the vampire lord Luvick in Caliphas.

A search of the abbey turned up the journals of the sisters, revealing their ongoing search for their sister’s body parts, most of which had been reassembled in an upper bedroom. The party fell upon the evil hag’s bone with abandon, making sure they would never be used to resurrect the annis.

The party also found research notes on creating a bloodbrew elixir, which allows vampire spawn to resist the control of their masters, and clearly one of the means that Radvir meant to use to overthrow the vampire lords of Caliphas. Notes written by the nosferatu Ramoska were also discovered, and referred to another vein of research dealing with the extension of life through magical and alchemical means, but the research was never completed.

Finally, the group returned downstairs to confront Halloran and explain that the way was now open for him to seek redemption in Caliphas. The ex-paladin agreed to seek such, and accompanied the party as they traveled back to Caliphas.

Desnus 25th, 4711

Justice at Dawn

It was nightfall by the time they arrived, leaving Halloran at the Dawngrace Memorial as they took the body of Radvir to the Vampire Underground, where Luvick waited in his grand hall.

“I am very pleased, mortals. And I thank you for your efforts. They shall not go unrewarded or unrecognized by my people.”

With that, the body of Radvir was taken away.

“If you wish to see the justice of the vampires, seek out the highest tower of Castle Stryithe at dawn.

You are dismissed."

With that, the party was led back above ground, where they met up with Halloran in the early hours and were met and escorted by vampire guards to the top of Castle Stryithe, where a struggling Radvir was tied with enchanted chains to a post.

As the dawn rose later that morning, one soul burned angrily with vengeful green flames in the emergent sunlight, while another peacefully was engulfed in pearlescent white fire.

As the party returned to their rooms at the Silent Hound, they found a heavy sack filled with platinum coin, with a note initialed L. S.

Later that day, another letter was delivered, this one written by Ramoska Arkminos.

It is my understanding that you are responsible for my release from Siervage’s custody, and for that you have my undying thanks. I now make haste to return to my home, but there is one final piece of business I must attend to. As promised, I will tell you what I know of the Whispering Way and their plans. I leave it up to you to decide your next step.

Upon further study of the sample of the elixir the Whispering Way gave me, it appears my theory that Prince Ordranti is the cult’s target was ill-founded. Instead, I’ve determined that the concoction is meant for someone else—Count Lucinean Galdana of Amaans. Judging by the components used in the elixir’s creation, the cult doesn’t just plan on transforming Galdana into a lich, however. Rather, it seems they intend to remake him into the most powerful lich this world has ever known—some sort of vessel for the Whispering Tyrant himself. I desire no part in such ill-conceived goals, and urge you to find Count Galdana before they do.

At this point, I am convinced that the Whispering Way has fled to their greatest stronghold, the fortress-monastery of Renchurch, in the haunted highlands of Virlych’s Hungry Mountains, ready to enact the final phase of their plans. Should you decide to venture there in search of them, I wish you good fortune.

Sincerely yours,
Ramoska Arkminos

Even more troubling, when the party attempted to contact their friend, Count Lucinena, at the Majesty Hotel where he was staying, all they discovered was a broken door and signs of a struggle in his sitting room. There was some blood, but a pouch full of coin was untouched, as were other items of value in the room.

It appeared that the Whispering Way had kidnapped the Count and were likely already on their way to the monastery of Renchurch.

Desnus 23rd, 4711

Of Wine and Witchfire

A gentle breeze wafted through the open doors of the huge dining hall through a wide foyer to the east. Wooden chandeliers with luminous candles hung from the ceiling overhead, their long ropes strung through the rafters and tied off on the eastern walls. Twin staircases descended from the north and south ends of the hall, the two stairs leading down.

Of the Glabrezu demon, there was no sign.

Slowly, the trio tended to the body of their fallen companion, Quinley, and moved to retrieve their weapons from a nearby table. Torquemada slowly started to survey the room, looking for anything untoward, but after a few minutes indicated everything appeared normal. The simple abbey dining hall was a simple dining hall.

Investigating the rooms to the west, the party first found themselves in a moderately-sized kitchen with a fireplace for cooking, numerous cabinets, and a large butcher block table set in the center of the room. A further search by the inquisitor found nothing amiss, so the party moved to the next door.

Ramirez opened the next door over, and stepped back as a thick, coiling, cold white fog roiled out from the doorway. The party was poised for attack, but as the fog continued to slowly pour out, nothing happened. A detect magic by Torquemada revealed that the fog was indeed magical, but seemed to be nothing more than a permanent or semi-permanent solid fog that had been magically chilled. Haza boldly stepped into the fog, and confirmed Torque’s analysis, as the room appeared to be a pantry for perishable items – meats, cheeses, fruit, vegetables, and the like. A thorough search of this room turned up nothing other than produce and other provisions.

Torquemada led the group to the south doorway off the dining hall, opening it and revealing a small workroom of sorts. A number of tables and chairs stood in the room, with sheets of parchment, quills, and inkwells spread around the tables. Most of the papers seemed mundane, but one item stood out – a large piece of parchment that showed a map of the abbey’s ground floor. A number of areas had been marked with a skull symbol – rooms that would later be found to correspond to the abbey’s bell tower, carriage house, storehouse, and winery. The group took the map and decided to investigate the skull rooms, starting with the closest one – the bell tower.

A set of stone stairs wound along the walls of the square tower. In the center of the roof, long ropes descended through a perfectly round hole about a foot in diameter – the abbey’s bell tower obviously. A quick search of the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and the party moved up to the next level where four windows allowed a modest amount of natural light into the second floor of the abbey’s bell tower. Stone stairs along the walls led both up and down, while two doors opened to the west and north. Otherwise this level was empty. Why the tower was marked with a skull was still a mystery.

The party returned to the first floor and decided to check out the remaining skull-marked rooms, moving through the entry hall into the storeroom off of the carriage house. This stone-tiled chamber was full of barrels, crates, boxes, and half-filled sacks of grain, but a thorough search again revealed nothing to indicate why this room was marked on the map.

Next on the map was the winery, and the group exited the main building and made their way to the outbuilding housing it. Three huge wine casks dominated the warehouse-like interior of this stone building, beneath a vaulted ceiling rising nearly twenty feet overhead. Four wooden vats lined the western wall next to a pair of double doors, and five smaller barrels sat on the tiled floor near a similar exit to the southeast. Smaller doors exited to the north and south.

Torquemada bade Ramirez to check the wine casks, and the fighter dutifully began opening the heavy tuns’ lids, making sure the wine within was “safe.” And it was, until he opened the final lid and saw a beautiful woman staring back at him from inside the cask. A beautiful, translucent woman that was wreathed in a sickly green fire…

Two other witchfires joined her sister as they attacked the band of adventurers, gouts of pale green fire erupting from their hands and engulfing Ramirez and Torquemada in their cold emerald flames. Haza lept to the attack, calling upon the cleansing fire of Sarenrae to aid their battle as the ghost-like creatures continued their attack. Now Haza was their target and even his near-immunity to fire was overcome by the creatures’ attacks. The battle raged on, with the party gaining the upper hand when one of the witchfires fell to blade and magic, and soon the other two were also destroyed.

Torquemada searched the building afterwards, and found a secret trapdoor that led down. More cautious now, Haza illuminated the shaft with a light spell, revealing hundreds of swarming spiders! The swarm quickly spiraled down and out of the lit shaft, but no one seemed eager to traverse that path now.

Let’s spend the night together

Frustrated by the lack of finding anything “skull”-worthy in the skull-marked rooms on the map, the party went to investigate the other outer structures on the map.

The vineyards outside of the winery were picked clean, obviously their harvest filling the casks inside the winery. A large stone well sat nearby in the shade of a grove of young apricot trees, but only clear, cool water was discovered inside.

“I hate this place,” said Haza.

Trying their luck on the shoreline of Lake Encarthan, the group went next to the nearby dock. A weathered flight of wooden stairs descended the bluff here to a small deck before continuing down to along wooden pier. A small sailboat lay moored at the end of the dock.

The dock and boat seemed completely ordinary, but Ramirez suddenly realized he was standing near a large body of water. With a scream, he turned and ran off the dock and back up the bluff. As the party turned to watch the spectacle, a sinuous form rose silently from the darkening waters and attacked Torque!

The spirit naga had surprise on its side and venom in its fangs, and made the most of the both. The party retaliated, and the snake-like aberration responded with a powerful fireball… that Torque adroitly dodged and Haza simply shrugged off. It took more than merely magical fire to affect a cleric of Sarenrae.

Now the naga was the one surprised, and the group pressed their advantage, striking down the monster as it tried to regroup.

But the damage had been done. The day was drawing to an end, the party was beaten, drained, and magically exhausted. They had to find a place to rest and recharge.

After much discussion, they decided that the best place for that was inside the abbey.

The abbey where the evil witches and their vampire ally were allegedly hiding.

The abbey filled with evil ghostly undead and demons.

The group decided to barricade themselves in the kitchen, with Haza using his Stone of Alarm on their door for additional protection. The fireplace was also blocked with furniture, and the group settled down to rest for the night, Haza taking first watch while Ramirez took off his armor and Torque settled down in his bedroll.

Night fell and Haza maintained his vigilant watch by candlelight. When he noticed the fine mist flowing out of the fireplace barricade, he quickly moved to rouse his companions, who hastily prepped their remaining spells while the fog solidified into the figure of Radvir Giovanni.

As the traitorous vampire fully materialized he glanced at Ramirez, ordering the burly fighter to put his armor on. Horrifying, he turned to obey, starting the long orderly process of donning his full suit of armor.

“Surrender now and I’ll kill you quickly. No? Very well then,” mocked the vampire.

Haza lashed out with holy power, but Radvir moved quickly into their midst, latching onto Torquemada and sinking his fangs into the inquisitor’s neck, as blood sprayed from the bite wound, even though he had protected himself with freedom of movement! Torque should have easily evaded the grapple, but no, the undead tatori monk held fast.

Torque tried to escape, but to no avail, as Haza continued to attack with prayer and spells. Finally, with a desperate surge, Torquemada broke free, but now the vampire turned on Haza, easily grappling the cleric and drinking of his blood.

Radvir released Haza, slamming him with negative energy and spun to do the same to Torquemada. The duo attacked, but although their attacks hit home, seemed to do little harm to the vampire.

But suddenly, he collapsed back into mist, roiling out through the barricaded door into the entry hall.

“He’s left to regenerate himself. How long do we have?” asked Haza.

“A minute or two at most,” replied Torque. "We need to leave now. Come on Ramirez.:

“I really hate this place,” said Haza.

Ramirez no longer seemed to be under the direct control of the vampire, and fell to tearing down the barricade as the others gathered their belongings to flee this place. The group rushed out the door, losing precious seconds as they debated the best place to go.

Finally, they settled on taking the boat back to Caliphas. Torque cast a remove fear spell on the fighter to temporarily suppress his water phobia, and everyone piled in the boat, moving swiftly further into the lake to throw of pursuit. In later tales of their exploits, this would be immortalized as the event that gave birth to the persona of B.A. Saul…

After a half-hour of looking over their shoulders into the dark, the group arrived at the docks of Caliphas, and swiftly made their way to the home of Abraun Chalest. Upon seeing their faces, the bleary-eyed historian quickly ushered them into the protection of his home, moving to put on a pot of tea and helping to tend to their many wounds and injuries.

Desnus 22nd, 4711

What waits in the dark?

Moving upwards from the basement area, Torquemada, Ramirez, Quinley, and Haza made their way through the main salon floor, opening doors, searching for secret doors and panels, and exhaustively searching for any further clue as to the designs and whereabouts of Radvir Giovanni… to no avail. Everything seemed on the level as far as the tailory shop went, but the party continued on into a warehouse area on the south side of the building.

Wooden rafters supported the ceiling of the large warehouse. A number of crates and barrels containing ingredients for dyes and other materials lie stacked throughout the room, creating a maze of pallets and boxes.

Haza noted that the ceiling above them was dark. Exceedingly dark. Even after casting a light spell, that area remained shrouded in shadows. Having had enough, Haza invoked the sacred power of Sarenrae, creating a nimbus of light that finally pierced the darkness lurking in the warehouse ceiling, revealing… nothing.

The party moved further into the room, trying to make sense of this puzzle. Why would someone cloak a perfectly normal ceiling in deeper darkness? As they continued to make their way forward, suddenly Ramirez started to float up into the air. The party watched as he continued his slow ascent, stopping about 15’ off of the floor. There he hung, suspended in air, as he looked around, turning his body to see if anything was in reach of this magical effect. However, he was simply suspended in mid-air, and there was nothing around him that he could reach.

Torquemada started to unpack a coil of rope, thinking that Ramirez had simply stumbled unto some kind of magical trap at this point.

Then he saw the demon staring at him.

The nabassu pointed a clawed talon, and a crackling burst of violet-black energy hit Torquemada directly in his face, the enervation critically draining his life force as he reached for his blade.

As the party moved to engage the demon, Quinley started to rise into the air also, struggling helplessly to overcome the magical effect. It was only later that Torquemada would realize that this and the earlier effect on Ramirez were telekinesis attacks by the demons.

The demons attacked the party with savage glee, tossing enervation beams that started to severely weight upon the adventurers. Ramirez and Quinley were forced to rely on missle weapons, and the appearance of a third nabassu demon seemed to weight the battle in favor of the Abyssal monsters.

However, the combined holy powers of the inquisitor and cleric soon began to turn the tide of battle. Even the appearance of a fourth demon was not able to swing the odds back to the evil outsiders, and soon their reeking remains lay dissolving on the floor.

After that battle, the group finished searching the main floor, finding little of interest. As daylight was quickly passing, they decided to quickly search the upstairs area before returning to the Silent Hound for the evening.

A shoe room was quickly tossed and left behind, leading the group to a series of apartments where they were confronted by six guards, obviously charmed thralls of the vampire Radvir. Torquemada quickly incapacitated the men with hold person spells, and the group was able to easily subdue and bind the guards. However, a search of the bunk bed rooms again revealed nothing of interest, so the party quietly made their way outside and through he streets of Caliphas back to their inn.

Desnus 23rd, 4711

The Abbey of Sante-Lymirin

The morning found the party back outside the Nobleman’s Stitch, however, this time the group headed next door to the furniture shop they had noticed previously. The shopkeeper, one Geb Dilbar, was quite talkative and spoke about how he had provided knitting needles for Radvir Giovanni for many years, yes he had. And the needles in question did in fact look exactly like those the party had found had been used to stake vampires during the killings.

Satisfied that all the pieces of the puzzle had been uncovered, the party decided that the mysterious abbey mentioned in Radvir’s journals was the next logical place to investigate.

Located a few miles north of Caliphas along the coast, the abbey was dedicated to Saint Lymirin, one of the first saints of Iomedae. A simple dirt road climbed the high bluffs overlooking Avalon Bay, and led to a two-story stone abbey connected to a squat carriage house by a tree-lined terrace. An adjoining bell tower rose sixty feet from its southern exposure, commanding a wide view of Caliphas to the south.

The group noticed a young stable boy near the doors of the carriage house, and approached him. Torquemada introduced himself and asked to meet the head of the abbey. The boy inquired as to the party’s business, and then disappeared inside the building.

A few moments later, he reemerged.

“The abbess has no time for beggars. There are no alms for you today. Move along.” said the boy.

Stunned by this response, Torquemada again explained who he was to the boy.

“I don’t believe you. Now move along.”

This time Haza stepped forward to confront the truculent boy, but to no avail.

“I told you beggars that you need to leave.”

Ramirez Saul stepped forward, drew himself to his full height and proceeded to do his best to intimidate the boy.

“Seriously, you need to move away from here. Don’t make me call the guards.”

The party was completely bewildered at this point, and the boy turned around, walked back inside the carriage house, and shut the door.

Flabbergasted, Haza suggested that the group try the main entrance instead. And why were they even entering through the stables anyways!

Knocking at the front door a few seconds later, everyone was much relieved when a portly man dressed in an abbot’s robe and frock, opened the door.

“Welcome to the Abbey of Saint Lymirin. I’m afraid we don’t have any alms for beggars today. Please go away.” He started to shut the door, when Torquemada spoke up again, explaining who they were.

Again, the abbot refused them entry.

Finally, Torquemada drew upon all of his diplomatic skills, and this seemed to register with the old priest, who grudgingly agreed to let them inside to meet the High Abbess.

“You will have to leave your weapons with my guards,” he intoned as six burly men moved forward to claim their arms.

The party was not happy with the arrangement, but finally acquiesced to the abbot’s demands, handing over their weapons to the guards, who passed them over to the abbot.

He moved over to a nearby table, placing the weapons down and picking up a mug, turned back to the party.

“You are incredibly stupid.

Kill them."

He gestured to the guards who immediately drew their weapons and attacked the weapon-less party!

The Glaucous Count

The party fought desperately against the well-trained guardsmen. While hard-pressed, the group was able to disarm a few of the fighters, and with new weapons in hand, were able to fight back effectively.

Meanwhile, the abbot drank deeply of wine and sat back to watch the fight.

The battle slowly turned back into the party’s favor. Four of the six guards were down, unconscious or dead, although the party themselves were battered and bleeding.

The abbot was now eating some cheese and grapes as he watched the pitched battle.

Finally, the abbot stood tall and gestured with a hand. A cold, cloying miasma of greasy darkness erupted from the middle of the melee, it’s unholy power burning into the party and guards equally.

The guards lay dead as the party reeled from the attack, and the abbot laughed.

Ramirez was the first to respond, charging forward and striking one of his most powerful blows… which didn’t even seem to harm the grinning abbot.

“Ramirez. Would you like to see your brother Ryszard again? I can make that happen,” intoned the priest.

Haza lashed out with a spell, only to watch horrified as the effect dissipated in the air.

Spell resistance.

Torquemada started to buff up with his spells, as Quinley moved to the attack, but his attacks were also ineffective.

“It’s not too late to save your brother. No? Not interested?”

Suddenly, the stable boy reached out and slapped Ramirez with an open hand. Blood spurted and a huge gouge appeared across his armor.

The abbot had turned into the stable boy?

That was not possible, though Torquemada, and Haza followed through with a dispel magic on the abbot.

This time his magic was strong enough to penetrate the spell resistance, and all stood in shock as the figure of the abbot turned into something… else.

A glabrezu demon.

Laughing gleefully, the demon tore into the party, lashing out with claws and pincers and spells. The party fought bravely, but were being slowly outmatched by the demonic monster, even though it had taken it’s share of bloody hits by this time.

Suddenly, the demon teleported to the back of the room, and offered a truce in exchange for 12,000 gp of gems.

“Pay me this, and I’ll depart this place and leave you in peace. Or perhaps one of you would be interested in seeing your fondest wish coming true?”

“Go to hell,” said Ramirez.

“Actually, that’s the Abyss,” corrected the demon.

The group rushed forward to press the attack, but the glabrezu laughed once more and teleported away once again, this time seemingly out of the room.

Whether it would return or not, the party did not know, but set around to bandaging their wounds and tending to their fallen companion, Quinley.

Desnus 21st, 4711

The Inquisition

As Torquemada and Ramirez (and Quinley) were taking their leave of Lady Evgenya, they were accosted by a trio of vampire enforcers, who happened to be escorting none other than their opium-crazed companion – the priest of Sarenrae, Haza. Having finally exhausted his capacity for drug-fueled debauchery (as allowed and conforming to all tenets and creeds of the sun goddess!), he had set out to regroup with the party. After encountering the vampires in Restoration Park, Haza was recognized as being associated with the humans “hired” by Luvick to investigate the vampire murders, and was promptly escorted to the Vampire Underground.

After catching Haza up on their findings, the newly reunited trio set off to interview the last of the vampire nobles that Luvick had recommended they speak to.

Desmond Kote was found in a large room nearby. A small shrine stood in the middle of the large chamber, centered on a statue of a horned man with fangs and bat wings holding a wickedly spiked flail in one hand. Beyond the shrine sat two long tables with elaborately carved darkwood chairs. Haza and Torque recognized the shrine as the Vampire Underground’s cathedral, being dedicated to the infernal duke Zaebos, whom vampires venerate as lord of arrogance, nobility, and perversion.

Clad in breastplate and shield, and carrying a wickedly spiked morning star, Desmond Kote hailed the party, focusing his attention on Torquemada, being a fellow inquisitor. After a few minutes of bantering, in which Torque and Haza impressed the vampire noble with their knowledge of the hierarchies of Hell, they got down to business. Kote had also been investigating the murders, and has collected the wooden needles found in the ashes of the previous victims. He had discovered that all of the stakes seemed to be of similar make, carved from furniture legs made in the same pattern.

He had no leads on the murderer(s) himself, but confirmed Lady Evgenya’s suggestion that the vampire spawn of the slain vampires were acting strangely, and agreed with her opinion that she might be the next target.

Taking leave of the vampire inquisitor, the group discussed what they had uncovered, agreeing that returning to Lady Evgenya and setting up a trap for the killer was the best option.

To Catch A Killer

The party returned to the salon of Lady Evgenya, and spoke at length with her again, requesting that she be the “bait” for their trap. She agreed in spirit, and took the group to a private backroom, where another Lady Evgenya awaited the group.

The real Evgenya explained that she had used illusion magic to cloak the appearance of one of her vampire spawn, and that she would be able to see and hear everything through the eyes of her spawn. The plan was for “Lady Evgenya” to be out hunting alone in Restoration Park. The party would remain nearby in hiding, and hopefully the killer would be drawn to the lone vampire noble and set off the trap.

It was agreed that the group would meet outside Restoration Park around midnight, and the trio left to return to the surface and prepare their trap.

Desnus 22nd, 4711

At the appointed hour, the group of adventurers was safely hidden amongst the trees and bushed in Restoration Park, when off in the distance, a lone figure clad in white finery appeared, slowly wending her way through the low mist that clung to the park grounds. “Lady Evgenya” silently glided through the park, looking for her prey, while the party waited in the shadows.

Time passed.

Just as everyone was ready to ditch the plan and try again later, a drunken sailor came stumbling into the park. The temptation was too much for the “Lady” to resist, and she immediately went into hunting mode. The poor soul staggered down the path, sloshing cheap whiskey from a bottle as he lurched his way to a tree to relieve himself.

The party quickly discussed the situation. They couldn’t stand by why a helpless human was slaughtered by the vampire, yet what would be the repercussions of attacking a vampire noble’s spawn?

As the group was poised to act, suddenly four black-clad figures materialized out of the mist, moving forward to surround the suddenly still “Lady.” The party jumped into action, rushing forward to engage the figures, who turned to face the new threat. Fanged faces split into leers as the vampire assassins attacked the party, while the previously paralyzed “Lady” turned to flee into the night. Blades clashed as the vampires fought with the party, and unfortunately the drunken sailor chose this time to realize that something was going on and came over to “assist.”

Torque and Ramirez did their best to protect the drunk, as he wildly swung around with his fists. As the tide of battle was turning, he finally struck home! Unfortunately, he ended up hitting Quinley, staggering the dhampir and knocking him nearly unconscious to the ground.

But the vampires were on their last leg, and with a flourish Ramirez finished off the last of the attackers, watching as it collapsed back into the mist from which it had appeared.

The Traitor Revealed

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” said the drunk, as he lashed out once more, punching Ramirez three times in rapid succession, rocking the fighter back on his heels as blood poured from his face.

The party turned to face this new threat, but the drunk was already moving in a blur. As he passed by Ramirez, he struck out with their blades as the opportunity presented itself, but things did not go as planned. Almost faster than the eye could follow, the drunk spun on his heel, tripping Ramirez. As the burly fighter windmilled his limbs as he lost his balance, the drunk struck out again, slamming his elbow into the fighter’s abdomen. And as Ramirez struck the ground, the breath knocked out of him, a foot lashed out, pounding into his ribs as the drunk continued to move. As he passed Torquemada, the inquisitor also attempted to attack, but as with Ramirez, was tripped, punched, and kicked in a blur of motion as the sailor continued his movement, running up to Haza and punching him in the face, grabbing hold of his collar as Haza’s neck snapped back from the force of the blow.

Torque realized that this was no common drunk. Looking closer, he detected a faint shimmer of magic present, and concentrating was able to make out the features underlying the illusion.

Noticing the inquisitor’s scrutiny and making the connection, Radvir announced, “And now you know too much. Time to die.”

Letting go of Haza, Radvir rushed forward, catching Torquemada with a wicked elbow as he locked a powerful hand around his throat and lunged forward, his fangs sinking deep into Torque’s throat and drinking deeply of the inquisitor’s blood.

Ramirez rushed forward with a powerful blow that struck home! Only, at the last second, Radvir pivoted around on his heel, thrusting Torquemada into the path of the two-hander as the blade bit home, cutting deeply into Torque’s back.

Haza lashed out with bolts of searing light, but the vampire seemingly moved like the wind, spinning and tumbling out of the way of the deadly beams.

The battle continued, and although the group was able to get a few hits in, Radvir seemed like almost untouchable. Only Haza’s judicious use of positive energy bursts seemed to really affect the undead menace.

And as suddenly as it started, the battle was over, as Radvir turned and ran off into the darkness. Moving as swiftly as a hawk on the wing, he was out of sight in seconds.

The group gathered their wits about them, helping Quinley back to his feet, and healing up their many wounds. They decided to immediately return to Luvick with the news, and headed back to the Vampire Underground.

When they arrived back at the vampire lair, they were escorted immediately into the presence of Luvick, who listened as they told their tale.

“Dawn is nigh, and Radvir likely has fled to his lair above – a tailor shop known as The Nobleman’s Stitch. Go and bring him back to me for judgment,” said the elder vampire lord.

The party left, and decided to stop by Radvir’s underground shop first, but found the building trashed and nothing of value left behind. After being directly to a nearby sewer access ladder, the group soon found themselves back in the streets of Caliphas, as the dawn light started to spread across the cityscape.

A quick discussion ensued, and the group opted to return to the safety of the Silent Hound to rest and regain spells before returning later today in the afternoon to investigate the tailory.

The Nobleman’s Stitch

One of the more affluent shops in Caliphas, the Nobleman’s Stitch was well-known for catering to the nobility and other members of the upper class to establish many of the city’s fashion trends.

Radvir Giovanni had a reputation for impeccable style and skill, and many wealthy customers sought him out for the latest fashions and outfits for special occasions.

The Nobleman’s Stitch took up an entire block in the heart of the city’s artisan district, just across the street from a furniture shop. A handful of long-burning oil lamps hung nearby from street poles spaced along the street. The tailor shop was two stories tall with signs of a basement present.

The group tried the front door, but it was securely locked. The windows next to the door were not as secure, however, as Haza smashed one and reached inside to unlock the doors.

A variety of wares are on display on numerous shelves and tables on the open shop floor inside, but there was no sign of life, or unlife.

The group quickly fell to searching the area, finding a series of steps leading below near some dressing rooms, and immediately descended into the basement.

The flight of stairs descended into the northwest corner of this basement room. The ceiling rose fifteen feet overhead, and several boxes and crates stacked along the south wall reached
nearly the same height.

The room appeared innocuous, but Torquemada soon discovered a secret door that led to a room filled with coffins and a large stone sarcophagus!

And what awaited in the coffins? Sleeping vampires perhaps?

Indeed, the coffins were indeed the hidden resting spots of a significant number of vampire enforcers. The group acted with cold deliberation, staking each one separately, before securing the body and taking it upstairs and out into the cleansing sunlight to destroy the vile undead once and for all.

Unfortunately, the stone sarcophagus was empty, only containing a lever that operated other secret doors. Behind those doors, were more coffins, but all were soon discovered to be empty.

Searching onward, the party discovered a dye room to the south. The stench of powerful chemicals overlaid by blood filled this large chamber. A large vat of pale yellow liquid sat to the north and three gaunt bodies, stripped and impaled with wooden stakes, hung from iron crossbars on the south wall.

The bodies appeared to be vampires also, and after much debate, the group decided to release the vampires by removing their stakes. As they did, the undead came violently back to life, but paused when seeing the signet ring of Luvick that the party held. Torquemada explained their situation to the undead who explained that he had been attacked by Radvir in Restoration Park and knew nothing else until he was revived by the party. He agreed to take a message back to Luvick for the party, and he set about helping them revive the other vampires.

After the captive vampires had left, the group resumed their search, finding another secret room filled with what seemed to be coffins, but turned out to be mimics instead! A pitched battle ensued, with the strange aberrations getting the better of the group initially, but the hardened adventurers tactics soon won out.

It was back in the dye room that a clue was to be found.

Radvir apparently kept an incredibly meticulous journal in a drawer in the table. The journal contained a list of not only the vampire elders he had targeted, but also the nobles of Ustalav he framed by falsifying evidence against them. The journal made it clear that Radvir was acting on behalf of Adivion Adrissant and the Whispering Way to help pave the way for the return of Tar-Baphon. The book also included several notes in individual envelopes from an Aisa and Hetna Dublesse.

These missives detailed ongoing requests for more vampire bodies to be delivered to the Abbey of Sante-Lymirin (a divine servant of Iomedae, and perhaps coincidentally, the patron saint of first blood.) in exchange for additional bloodbrew elixir. The journal included the abbey’s location and Radvir’s own musings on the witches’ intentions for the bodies. He believed the sisters were trying to create a potion for undead transformation, obviously working for the Whispering Way.

Desnus 20th, 4711

On the Trail of the Whispering Way

After the devils had been dispatched back to the Nine Hells, Torquemada called upon the power of his goddess to counter the effects of the Bone Devil’s poison on the two, while Ramirez worked to tidy up the Esoteric Vault where collateral damage had occurred.

The slow climb up the spiral staircase was exceptionally taxing for the duo after the pitched battle, for even though Torquemada’s healing magic had removed much of the poison’s damage, they were still weak and exhausted from that which remained.

As they emerged from the depths of the basement, Abraun Chalest came hurried forward.

“I thought I heard a commotion. Is everything all right?” asked the historian.

“Yes. Well, there may have been a complication or four.” said the inquisitor of Iomedae, “But everything is fine Chalest.”

“Did you find what you were looking for then?”

“We did, of sorts. We activated the gargoyle statue, and an illusion appeared, showing an old map of Caliphas with a location marked. Do you have any idea what building this could have been?”

Chalest examined the rough sketch of ancient Caliphas that Torquemada had made of the programmed illusion, and soon announced that he did indeed know the location – it was part of the Quarterfaux Archives, of which he was the curator!

He explained that the building was one of the museum’s older (and least visited) structures dedicated to the history of the former county of Grodlych, and had been in the hands of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye for over 100 years. He agreed to personally take the party to the museum tomorrow after the party had a chance to rest.

With that, the tired duo took their leave to return to the Silent Hound, and slept the remainder of the night in the dreamless rest of those who had fought the horrors of Hell itself and survived.

Desnus 21st, 4711

The morning broke with the smell of frying sausages and eggs wafting up from the common room below. After a hearty breakfast, with Haza still nowhere to be found, Ramirez and Torque made their way to the Grodlych archives, where Abraun was waiting for them. Unlocking the massive oak and brass doors, he led the adventurers inside, where four large rooms filled with rack upon rack of books, scrolls, and tablets awaited. There was no one else in the building, so Abraun left the pair to their own devices as they attempted to find some indication of the presence of the Whispering Way.

After much searching, the duo found faint magic emanating from that an ancient fresco in one of the displays depicted the first count of Grodlych, an excommunicated priest of Pharasma named Laudmeir Vandolmayne. The heretic was shown clutching a book whose cover bore eerily familiar, stylized symbols matching those on the moribund key carried by Torquemada. By setting the correct runes on the moribund key, Torque was able to release an arcane lock barring the secret stone door behind the fresco that led to a room below the structure.

However, searching the cramped, musty confines of the bolt-hole beneath the archives turned up nothing more than discarded, battered furniture, broken alchemical equipment, and a few scraps of paper hinting at the Whispering Way’s activities in gathering components for some elixir or potion, though none of these notes contained any specific information or clues as to the cult’s current whereabouts.

The pair seemed to be at a dead end, when a voice spoke from back beyond the secret entrance.

“Good evening. It seems I’m not the only one searching for the Whispering Way. But alas, it appears that they deserted this place some time ago. My name is Quinley Basdel, and I’m searching for my mother’s killer. Perhaps we might be able to assist each other?”

Introductions were made, and it was revealed that Quinley was a sometimes associate of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye in Caliphas, that his mother was a vampire(!) and had been recently slain in the (suspected) series of vampire murders in the city, and that he suspected that the Whispering Way was behind these events.

“The vampires of Caliphas might be able to tell you where the Whispering Way went. I can introduce you to them. Someone is murdering vampires in the city, most notably my mother. I have no proof, but I suspect that another vampire is responsible. The killer has been too selective, too successful, and too secretive to be a normal living vampire hunter. I want you to help me find this serial killer, unmask him, and bring him to justice.

“Vampires are monsters, unrepentant villains, it’s true, but they have found a niche in this country. When the Whispering Tyrant fell at Gallowspire, the vampires laid down their weapons and conceded the field in exchange for peace. Since the Shining Crusade, the vampire clans of Caliphas have maintained the status quo. Now Ustalav’s rulers hold court without fear of the Tyrant’s return and the vampires are left alone. But these vampire slayings could create an entirely new war in the city and across the nation. And in a war between humans and vampires, who do you think would win? And who stands to gain the most from that war? The only group who was adversely affected by the vampires and whose presence remains a enduring symbol of their failure in the Shining Crusade.”

Upon further questioning about the vampire presence in Caliphas, Quinley revealed the following:

“My mother was a vampire. I am not, though I have her blood. I’m not affiliated with the clans of Caliphas, but I do work for them occasionally as a free agent as I do for the Esoteric Order. And I know their leader, Luvick Siervage, an elder vampire who predates even the Whispering Tyrant. He rules from the Vampire Underground.

Long ago, the streets of Caliphas were raised to install a proper sewer. The ground floors of many of the city’s buildings became basements, their basements became subbasements, and so on. The vampires claimed some of these areas for themselves. I can take you there, but we may have to get past a few guardians on the way. Once we get past their guardians, I can get you an audience with Luvick. If you tell him you can find help find whoever’s killing his people, he’ll listen to you.”

All agreed that an alliance was in everyone’s best interests, and Quinley offered to lead them to the Vampire Underground that afternoon.

The Vampire Underground

Quinley led the group to the fastidiously manicured gardens and lawns of the city’s largest park – Restoration Park – in the shadow of Castle Stryithe.

The park was officially open from dawn to dusk, though there is was no closed gate to stop nocturnal visitors. Watchmen from the city’s constabulary could be seen passing through this area but they did not seem to venture into the park itself.

Inside a number of pathways wove through the trees and grass past a number of statues and other features.

In one part of the park, a life-sized alabaster statue mounted on a block of granite depicted the austere countenance of Sesasgia Caliphvaso, the countess who refounded the city of Caliphas after the defeat of the Whispering Tyrant.

A trio of seeming innocuous standing stones stood in the park’s center, although close inspection by the group revealed recent and somewhat extensive bloodstains on the menhirs themselves.

Nearby, another massive statue dominated a clearing, depicting Soividia Ustav, the founder of Ustalav, astride a rampant destrier with an upraised blade.

In the back of the park, tall columns lined both sides of a reflecting pool, commissioned by Ilmhost Vheist, a scholar and early leader of Ustalav, in the aftermath of the Shining Crusade as a reminder to the inhabitants of Caliphas of the dangers the nation has faced over its proud history. The tall columns along the pool’s south side were carved in the likeness of Ustalavic soldiers facing a menagerie of threatening creatures carved on the pillars on the far side, including Kellid barbarians, Belkzen orcs, werewolves, and the undead knights of the Whispering Tyrant. This latter group included both a headless dullahan as well as an armored knight covered in blood.

In addition to the reflecting pool, a large natural pool filled with water sat in the northeastern part of the park.

Finally, a large greenhouse filled the southeast corner of the park.

The Glass House was a massive structure, towering 40 feet tall, easily as high as many of the park’s trees. A relatively recent addition to the park, the greenhouse showcased a variety of flowering plants imported from warmer climes, and drew many visitors each year.

Huge glass windows stretched between the greenhouse’s iron frameworks, and small rise of steps led to a wide portico. Two massive pillars of stone supported a roof overhead and flanked a pair of ornate, gold-clad doors inscribed with sun motifs.

The group headed inside, the cloying humidity and heat of an active greenhouse filling the huge atrium. Exotic flowers, creeper vines, shrubbery, and even trees grew throughout the open space. A vaulted ceiling arched forty feet overhead, supported by four thick columns, while a stone-tiled path wound past each exhibit.

Quinley led the party to the left, looking for some access to the sewers beneath the city, which he said was the main pathway to the Underground. An unusual array of exotic plants dominated this part of the greenhouse exhibit, displaying every color of the rainbow. Their hues were made more vibrant by the backdrop of an enormous mass of cactuslike vines covered with white leaves.

Ramirez moved forward to examine the vines, when they suddenly stirred and whipped around him, pulling him into a yawning mouth of leaves!

The giant flytrap plant continued it’s surprise attack, grabbing Torquemada in it’s questing jaws as Quinley peppered the intelligent plant with crossbow bolts. The plant fought tenaciously, but would prove to be no match for the party.

And underneath it’s now-motionless trunk, Quinley spotted the object of their search – an opening leading downward into the sewers.

After healing up from the plant attack, the trio dropped into the sewers below and began looking for a clear path that would enable Quinley to locate the Vampire Underground.

A number of dead ends led the party back to the opening room, but suddenly, sharp stones were stabbing upward from the floor and vines were erupting in a frenzy trying to entangle the trio. A sudden blast of furnace-hot air came blasting down from above, burning everyone as they struggled to escape from the clutches of the vines, and then they were free and fleeing up through the opening… only to be hit by blazing bolts of lightning from the skies above, shattered glass scattering over the greenhouse. The party was under attack, and finally the attacker was revealed – a half-elf woman dressed in what appeared to be vines and brambles stood perched in a nearby tree. But not just a woman, as she grinned at the party’s plight – revealing the long canine fangs of a vampire!

Ball lightning and lightning bolts rocked the party as they shot at the vampire, but it wasn’t until Ramirez was able to down a potion of Enlarge Person and tripped her from the branch that the tide of battle changed. Even so, as she fell laughing under the blades of the party, hers was to be the last laugh as she dissolved into mist and fled into the night. Ramirez’s victory was cut short by the revelation from Torquemada that she was not dead, and in fact would be back in a few hours to enact vengeance, for such was the way of the vampire in cheating death.

With no time to waste, the group returned to the sewers, seeking to put as much distance as possible between them and the likely infuriated vampire druid. After a few more twists and turns, Quinley found a main passageway that led to the sewers proper, and would lead them directly to the Vampire Underground.

It was about thirty minutes later when the vampire spawn appeared, crawling on walls and ceiling and walking on the narrow pathway above the reeking sewer water. There were eight of them, armed with long swords, and they accosted the party, demanding to know why they should let them pass.

Ramirez was less than diplomatic, and the trio soon found themselves in a pitched battle against the undead creatures. Quinley was forced to retreat, when the vampire spawm had had enough and fell back, retreating into the darkness. Torquemada had harsh words for the warrior, and admonished him for making their passage harder than necessary.

Interview with the vampires

A half-hour later, the trio walked into what appeared to be a guard room. Four well-armed and armored vampires challenged them, with Quinley stepping forward to explain that they were there to speak to the leader of the vampires – the 800-year old Luvick Siervage.

Passage was granted, and the group was escorted through the sunked subbasement passageways to the audience hall of the vampire lord.

A grand promenade opened into a wide audience hall, decorated with elaborate tapestries and art befitting a royal of Ustalav’s ancient bloodlines. An immense throne dominates the far wall, while two antechambers stood to either side of the promenade to the east and west.

Well-dressed vampire nobles glared hungrily at the party as they approached a throne at the end of the hall. Upon the throne sat the vampire lord himself. He gestured the party to move closer, and spoke:

“As in the days of old, those of mortal flesh stand before me. Yet you do not cower like most who look upon my undying face. My servants tell me you came of your own free will, even with the knowledge that many here would feast upon the blood surging in your veins. But is it bravery you possess, or foolishness?

I respect your boldness… for now. Why have you come here, mortals?”

Torquemada stepped forward and explained why they had come, as Luvick listened through his story.

" I am no friend of the Whispering Way," the vampire Lord concluded, " and I would prefer to see the Whispering Tyrant remain confined in Gallowspire, as he has been these last fourscore decades. If you find me the killer, I will tell you what I know of this cult, and where they might have gone."

When asked about his current knowledge of the murders, Luvick replied, “My people are being killed — what more do I need to know? My agents are still gathering information, but in truth, we know little. We have someone in custody, a nosferatu named Ramoska Arkminos. He claims to have nothing to do with the slayings, but that one has played a mysterious game for many years. In addition, one of my retainers has acquired evidence suggesting that Caliphas’s nobility are behind these attacks. Perhaps the two are related.”

He continued on, "I grant you permission to interview your people and see this evidence. Speak with Lady Evgenya — she knew many of the victims, and is convinced that she is next. Her apartments lie west of here. Desmond Kote, in the cathedral to the north, may have some insight, as well. If you wish to see the evidence we have gathered so far, speak to my retainer Radvir Giovanni in his store to the east. Ramoska Arkminos is being held in the old pump room, also to the east. You can question him as well, if you wish, though I doubt you’ll get any more out of him than we have.

“Take this signet—any vampire who sees it will know you are my creatures, and leave you unharmed. But take care — vampires are a fractious lot, and even my most loyal subject would not hesitate to drain your blood if provoked. Remember always that to them you are prey, and show them the respect accorded to predators.

“I demand only one thing. When you find this killer, you bring it to me. Anyone who strikes down vampire elders will face judgment from one as well.”

With that, they were dismissed and set off to question the other vampires.

First visited was the tailor Radvir Giovanni in his shop to the east. He explained that he believed that the human nobles of Caliphas were hunting down vampire elders, and revealed a number of documents purportedly taken from several minor members of Caliphas’s aristocracy. These missives identify specific vampire elders and their lairs, and commissioned their deaths in an attempt to deprive the vampires of leadership. Radvir claimed to believe that it was the nosferatu Ramoska Arkminos, who was indeed a known servant of one of Ustalav’s nobles, that was contracted to carry out the killings.

The trio thanked the vampire for his help and made their way to the cell containing Ramoska Arkminos. He looked up from where he sat as they entered the room.

“Good evening. More of Luvick’s spawn, are you, come to gloat some more? No, I can see you’re no vampires. His loyal slaves, then, fawning over ‘His Grace’ while your true minds scream silently and helplessly inside.

No? Then what business do you have with me?

Perhaps you came to free me. If so, I can assure you I would be most grateful.”

Introducing themselves, the nosferatu spoke freely.

“I am Ramoska Arkminos, a servant of the count of Varno.”

“Why are you here?” demanded the inquisitor.

“Luvick Siervage suspects I might have something to do with the murders of vampires in the city, but he is sadly mistaken.”

“Why does Luvick suspect you?”

“He is scared. And my kind and his, though similar in some ways, are actually quite different. I am an outsider who serves a powerful master, and Luvick feels threatened by this. He needs a scapegoat, and I fit the role well. I suspect my recent work with the Whispering Way might have something to do with it as well.”

And just what is your relationship with the Whispering Way?"

“I am both a student of the arcane and an alchemist by trade. The Whispering Way hired me to test the potency of a potion they’re creating, a powerful admixture providing a path to lichdom. I hasten to add that I am no supporter of their goals, but the opportunity to test my expertise on such a concoction proved too enticing to resist.”

“Why do they want such a potion?”

“Obviously, they mean to administer it to someone. Judging by the formula I studied, someone of great importance, as it was crafted for a specific person. My personal favorite for the potion’s recipient is Prince Aduard Ordranti, ruler of all Ustalav.

I do not believe the cultists created this elixir at the prince’s request. It’s meant to poison someone, to force such a transformation, even against the unwilling. You could save him, or whoever it’s meant for, if you help me.

“I am an innocent man. If you clear my name by finding the real vampire murderer, I’ll tell you all I know of the Whispering Way and their recent activity. I’m sure you already know that they’ve left Caliphas. I can tell you where they’ve gone, and perhaps study the sample of their elixir in more detail to see if I can find anything more. All I learn I’ll share with you.”

The celebratory strains of lutes and harpsichords filled the air in this well-appointed, if ostentatious, chamber. Several figures dressed in finery befitting nobles of Ustalav’s ancient past danced on a parquet floor.

Lady Evgenya was as haughty as her namesake suggested, but grudgingly she revealed her thoughts to the party. She was clearly upset by the vampire slayings, as many of her friends had fallen victim to the murderer. She’d noticed several things about the murders, however. One thing that the victims all had in common is that they each controlled large numbers of enslaved spawn. These spawn, now freed by their masters’ deaths, have been acting strangely — almost as if they had a new master, though she has no idea who that might be. Given the size of her own undead court, Lady Evgenya suspected the murderer will soon come for her as well. In addition, Lady Evgenya believed she has found a pattern in the slayings — namely, that many of the victims have disappeared after hunting in Restoration Park, which has led many vampires to avoid that area in fear of attracting attention to themselves.

Thanking her for her assistance, the trio left her salon and headed off to their next interview with a vampire.

Desnus 14th, 4711

Barragaro Road

After the events that occurred at the Seventh Eye, the party quickly regathered their wits about them, stepping outside of their private dining room and Ramirez accosting one of the servants.

“We need to speak with Dr. Low, now.”

“I’m afraid he’s retired for the evening sir,” said the waiter.

“I think you misunderstood me. I said NOW.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s not here.”

“He doesn’t know where he is,” stated Torquemada. “Let it go and we’ll get out of here.”

With that, the group gathered themselves and exited the Seventh Eye, heading back east to their rooms at the Silent Hound. Ephraim, shaken by the night’s events also, took his leave of the party, stating that he had all the information he needed for his report. He bade the others farewell, and stated that should they ever need his assistance again, to please contact someone else! And when that person wisely refused, to call upon him instead. The parting was another bittersweet flavor added to a distasteful evening.

As they continued on, Torquemada inquired, “Haza? Are you familiar at all with Urgathoa?”

“A passing familiarity. Why?” asked the Osirian priest.

“Just a feeling, " replied the inquisitor.

Silence fell after that exchange, and lasted throughout the journey through the dimly-lit streets of Caliphas. Returning to their inn, the adventurers headed off into their individual rooms, soon falling into the deep embrace of sleep. If they dreamt of their encounter with The Lady in Red that night, none remembered those dreams the next morning.

Desnus 15th, 4711

The next few days were spent in rest and recreation, as the group had not been in the welcoming arms of a major city in a number of months. The party was directed to Barragaro Road.

While much of the city’s commerce was conducted in shops and stands throughout the varied districts, it’s said that one can find anything one wants on Barragaro road. From dusk to dawn, vendors, barrow boys, and traders of all types loudly haggle over goods, from folksy crafts and jerked fish skewers to stolen wares and mysterious curiosities. Although many of the merchants are daily fixtures, some dealers appear, sell their wares for a day, and then are never seen again. The raucous, bustling street always has a carnival atmosphere, attracting street performers and tourists, but also hucksters, con artists, and pickpockets of all types. Just off the sloping street runs Vaingrier Alley, also called Oracle’s Alley, where sham soothsayers read fortunes in dice and bones, Sczarni dancers distract easy marks, and several of the city’s dealers in magical goods—of both dubious and masterful quality—keep shop.

Non-essential treasure items were bartered away in exchange for magical goods, some sold for gold, while Torquemada chose to donate his adventuring proceeds in service of his god. Torquemada visited the local temple of Iomedae, and left much lighted in coin pouch, but clad in the knowledge that some day soon an academy for inquisitors would be built in Caliphas, with a statue of his friend, the fallen paladin Ryzsard, standing watch over their front doors.

Of Haza, there was no sign. Given his proclivities towards recreation in a more exotic vein, Haza and Torquemada were sure that some opium den nearby was gleefully accepting his hard-earned gold.

Desnus 17th, 4711

Morning Murders

This morning, fortified by a hearty breakfast of pork sausage and fresh eggs, Torque and Ramirez set out to visit Caliphas’ library to see if they could find any sign or clue as to what the Whispering Way wanted in Caliphas. They soon found themselves blocked by a gathering crowd being held back by the local constables. A crime scene!

Torquemada inquired, and at his insistence, was led to the officer in charge of the scene – one Captain Boverde Hoptler. After some convincing by Torquemda, “Grand Inquisitor of Iomedae,” the Captain explained the situation.

“Caliphas has been plagued by a series of mysterious murders of late, in which bodies turn
up on the city’s streets drained of all fluids, only to dissolve into ash by morning. According to the men who first arrived here, we discovered the newest murder this very morning.”

Captain Hoptler led the party to a nearby pile of ash.

“A headless body was discovered lying on its stomach in an alleyway between this inn and a tailor shop. Soon thereafter, the body collapsed in upon itself and turned into this fine gray-white ash. There has been no sign of the head.

From what we were able to determine, though, the body was pushed or fell off of the roof above."

As Torque continued the conversation with the Captain, Ramirez wandered off to investigate the inn in question. The common room was empty, so he made his way up above to find a hallway of locked doors and some windows looking out. Boldly, he decided to step over the nearest sill and climb to the roof, much to the amusement and consternation of the onlookers and constables below.

Clambering quickly up to the roof, Ramirez was confronted by the two constables who had been stationed there, demanding to know what he was doing. Captain Hoptler waved them off, and they brusquely pointed Ramirez to the nearby ladder (aka Haza), and told him he would have to leave the premises. He did so, but not before noticing that two other piles of ashes were nearby on the roof.

Torque, meanwhile, had asked to check out the ashes, and was allowed to proceed as long as he didn’t disturb the evidence. The ashes appeared to be dense and powdery, similar to but texturally different from wood ash. He did notice what appeared to be a long, thin needle of hard wood protruding from the ashes, and motioned over Captain Hoptler to point it out.

“Probably dropped in the alley by one of the tailors next door.”

“Does Caliphas have any recent problems with vampires?”

“There are no vampires in Caliphas,” replied the watch captain. “We’ve never been plagued by that kind of terror.”

He seemed sincere, but Torque had his doubts. He asked for permission to examine the rooftop ashes and shortly after found similar wood needles in the piles up above.

Realizing there was nothing else to see here, Torque and Ramirez took their leave, and continued to the Caliphas’ library.

What they found was disappointing. There was little mention of necromantic cults, and nothing regarding the Whispering Way specifically. Additionally, Torquemada was not able to find any indication that there was or ever had been a vampire problem in Caliphas. In fact, there was nothing to be found that even referenced vampires or vampirism. Most peculiar for a library in a city of this size to not even have a general reference to those parasitic undead.

They did find a mentions of the presence of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye having a presence in the city, and were able to discover that the Order’s Caliphas cathedral contains a well-stocked collection of obscure lore known as the Esoteric Vaults.

It took a few hours of combing the city and talking to locals for Torquemada to discover that the Order met regularly in an older part of town at the Haraday Theatre. They quickly got directions and made their way there.

The aged, stately structure of the Haraday Theater lay nestled among several shops. The rough wooden exterior bore the signs of numerous repairs and modifications, though it seemingly had need of many more. The building itself had two entrances, one to the west and another to the south, both bracketed by large, wall-mounted oil lamps.

There was no sign of activity, so Ramirez pounded on the door. A few minutes later, the sounds of bolts being withdrawn heralded the opening of the door. A pudgy, aged gentleman, wearing a befuddled expression behind an expensive pair of silver spectacles stood there.

“We don’t have any alms, sorry,” he said as he moved to close the door.

“Wait. We’re not here for that.

Excuse me, I am Torquemada, Inquisitor of Iomedae and this is my companion the warrior Ramirez Saul. We come from Lepidstadt at the bequest of Judge Daramid."

“Oh! From Lepidstadt, you say? Yes, I know of you. Unfortunately, we are closed today. Come by tomorrow evening at 8:00. Here are some passes to get you inside. We will talk then.”

He handed two golden tickets to the pair, and closed the door. The sounds of bolts being thrown made the door hum slightly.

There was no more to be done here, so the duo returned to the Silent Hound. Of Haza, there was still no sign.

Desnus 18th, 4711

An Evening at the Haraday Theater

The next day arrived and soon turned to night. Torquemada and Ramirez found themselves back at the Haraday. Well-dressed servants stood outside the doors, welcoming arriving carriages and turning away passersby who linger next to the glass windows of what appears to be a large meeting hall.

Handing over their tickets, the two found themselves inside a foyer. Dark hardwood floors and paneled walls highlighted the entrances to the secretive social club. The exterior doors stood open to the night, while dim lamps illuminated those ahead – two doors leading further inward.

To the left sat a lounge with round tables filling the wide chamber and mahogany liquor cabinets lining the walls to the east and west. Heavy drapes hung beside three large windows and lit iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling 15 feet overhead. A number of nobles and aristocrats were milling about, drinks in hands, while servants milled about offering more drink and viands.

To the right was a gathering room. Large bookshelves and heavily draped windows lined the walls of this room. A cigar box on one of the bookshelves turned out to contain fine rolled cigars from nearby Molthune, and nearby decanters of brandy were seeing heavy use by those in attendance.

The man they had met yesterday espied them from the gathering room and came over to welcome them. He introduced himself as Abraun Chalest, Quartermaster of the Esoteric Order here in Caliphas, and suggested they go someplace more private to discuss what brought them to the city.

Once away from prying eyes and ears, Torquemada explained the circumstances that brought them to Caliphas, hot on the heels of the Whispering Way. Chalest listened intently, but had no direct knowledge of any Whispering Way activities in the city. He did mention that there might be answers in the Esoteric Vaults kept secret and safe, but that the party would have to talk to the head of the Order in Caliphas, Edjureus Modd, for permission to enter the vaults.

He went on to explain that the likelihood of that happening was low, given that Edjureus was not well-disposed towards “adventurers.”

Torque and Ramirez decided to try another route, and started mingling with the nobility and gentry. They made the acquaintance of Lady Wisterfall and Count Galdana, and while they spent an hour exchanging tales of adventure and fighting prowess with the Count, but weren’t able to find anyone else who had access to the Vaults other than Modd and Chalest.

Returning to Chalest, the duo asked for an audience with the Order’s Master, and soon were having an uncomfortable discussions with the haughty arisocrat. Disgusted at their lack of progress, they decided to approach the affable Count Galdana and ask for his assistance in dealing with Edjureus Modd.

This time, it was a rousing success! The noble Count argued eloquently on behalf of his new companions, and soon Edjureus had called over Chalest to take the party down to the Vaults. He suggested that they wait until tonight’s festivities were over, and to mingle and enjoy the Order’s hospitality until then.

The Esoteric Vaults

Early the next morning, well after all the guests had gone home, Abraun led the party through the theatre to a staircase, with bookshelves groaning beneath the weight of hundreds of tomes lining thee wooden stairs, which descended in a spiral along this chamber’s walls to the theater’s subbasement 30 feet below.

Piles of statuary, pottery, paintings, and art filled the chambers below, clustered around large wooden crates, barrels, and narrow bookshelves full of ancient, musty tomes, with only narrow, meandering pathways between them. In the final vault to the east, a large worktable lay half-buried under piles of scrolls, books, and clay tablets, illuminated by magical work lights overhead.

Abraun informed the two that he would be upstairs if needed, and left them to their work.

Within a few hours, Torquemada had uncovered a wealth of information.

Concerning the Raven’s Head – Holy to the faith of Pharasma and imbued with the power of all the bishops of Ustalav, this goldplated + 3 undead bane heavy mace has a head fashioned into the shape of four ravens’ heads, from which it gets its name. It was the symbol of office for the Bishop of Caliphas until Prince Adamondais Virholt lost the mace in battle against the Whispering Tyrant. A character with the ability to channel positive energy gains the Channel Smite feat while wielding Raven’s Head, if she does not already possess the feat. In the hands of a cleric of Pharasma, Raven’s Head gains the disruption quality, and the wielder can use the Channel Smite feat as if she were a cleric of 4 levels higher (+2 on the DC and +2d6 damage) and an extra three times per day.

Concerning the Moribund Key – Greater agents of the Whispering Way use these silver medallions as keys to their sanctuaries. Each moribund key bears an engraved skull with two gray, burned-out ioun stones for eyes. Small openings line the coin’s outer edge. By turning the skull’s head, an inner plate marked with runic symbols lines up with these openings to establish different combinations. Each setting matches symbols inscribed on objects of great importance to the cult, such as statues, paintings, and doors. The proper arrangement of these runes activates stored spell effects in such objects, including powerful wards, programmed images, or the release of arcane locks. The bearer of a moribund key can cast message at will, and spectral hand and vampiric touch 3 times per day. In addition, the skull’s eyes glow when undead approach within 60 feet. A moribund key bestows one negative level on any good creature carrying it. The negative level remains as long as the medallion is carried and cannot be overcome in any way while the medallion is in that creature’s possession.

Also discovered was a chronicle of several items the Whispering Way once kept in Caliphas, including a gargoyle statue reputed to show believers the way to the cult’s hidden stronghold in the city.

The obvious next step would be to find the location of the Whispering Way’s former stronghold, but this would prove to be a challenge. The party took their leave and returned to their inn.

Desnus 20th, 4711

The Whispering Wardens

Fruitless searches throughout the city’s libraries, records, and courts, would provide no further clue. It would take a return visit to the Haraday theatre to ask for assistance from Abraun Chalest once more.

Amazingly, once he spied the sketch that Torquemada had made of the gargoyle, he immediately recognized it. It was the same one kept in the Esoteric Vaults below!

Chalest led them back down to the Vaults below, where the gargoyle statue was quickly discovered. Half-covered by a fallen tapestry, the hideous stone gargoyle crouched upon a solid block of rough-hewn black granite. Its wings lie folded over its back, their sharp spurs reaching almost to the 10-foot-high ceiling overhead. The statue’s claws, teeth, and strangely protruding ribs all appear crafted from iron. A carved necklace with a skull-shaped medallion bearing curious runes along its outer edge hangs upon the gargoyle’s chest.

At Torquemada’s behest, Chalest retreated to the safety of upstairs, while they examined the statue. Sure enough, the carved necklace had symbols that matched those on the Moribund Key. A few simple twists of the key, and Torquemada was able to slide in into the statue’s openings with a soft click.

Suddenly, an illusion appeared in the air before the gargoyle. It depicted an aerial representation of what could only be ancient Caliphas with a single building highlighted by an unearthly green glow.

The scene was interrupted by a translucent image of four liches appeared at the cardinal points surrounding the projection of the city. A hollow voice spoke, demanding that the intruders recite the fifth catechism of the Whispering Way in harsh whispers.

Torquemada, realizing that time was of the essence, gave his best guess – the 5th line from the Carrion Crown poem.

He chose… poorly.

A suddenly burst of light and a rush of air heralded the appearance of four large devils. Merging the most horrifying features of carrion-fed insect and withered cadaver, these bony devils moved in unsettling lurches as they assailed Torque and Ramirez.

The bone devils attacked the duo with evil intent, their poisonous stingers rapidly diminishing the strength of the fighter and inquisitor. Finally, the first devil fell under the blades of Ramirez, and the pitched battle began to the turn the tide. By the time the final devil fell, both men were beaten, bloodied, and poisoned.

Urgathoa

Some claim that Urgathoa was a mortal once, but when she died, her thirst for life turned her into the Great Beyond’s first undead creature. She fled from Pharasma’s endless line of souls and back to Golarion, bringing with her disease to the world. She appears as a beautiful, ravenhaired woman from the waist up, but below that her form begins to rot and wither, until only blood-covered bones remain at her feet. Urgathoa is worshiped by undead as well as dark necromancers and those hoping to become undead. As such, her clerics must often keep their activities a secret. Some who are sick with the plague make offerings to the Pallid Princess in hopes of alleviating their illness, but most turn to Sarenrae. The occasional gluttonous prince might make offering to Urgathoa as well, be it for more food, women, or other carnal pleasures. She and Calistria vie for control of their overlapping interest, with the elven goddess representing lust and the undead one representing physical excess.

Ceremonial clothes in her church are a loose gray floorlength tunic with a bone-white or dark gray shoulder-cape clasped at the front. Traditionally the lower half of the tunic is either shredded or adorned with strips of cloth or tassels to give the overall appearance of increased damage as it approaches the floor, mirroring the goddess’ own decay. Because most ceremonies involve indulging in large amounts of food and wine, these garments are usually stained from spills. Her temples are built like feast-halls, with a large central table serving as an altar and numerous chairs surrounding it. Most temples are adjacent to a private graveyard or built over a crypt, often inhabited by ghouls (which embody all three of the goddess’s interests). Her sacred text is Serving Your Hunger, penned by Dason, her first knight-blackguard.

Urgathoa sometimes gifts female clerics who serve her particularly well by transforming them after death into hideous undead creatures called the daughters of Urgathoa. She has also been known to lend support to the daemon Horsemen from time to time, for many of their goals closely match her own. It is not uncommon to encounter daemon servants and guardians in her most powerful temples as a result.

Desnus 4th, 4711

The Phase Door

Having defeated the Vizier and the horrific monster he transformed into upon his death, the party decided to return to the village of Illmarsh and report back to Mayor Greedle. However, upon arriving at the Illmarsh Town Hall, however, the group was informed that the Mayor was not in his office. Torquemada was able to convince the young deputy to give up the fact that the Mayor was reportedly heading out to the old Undiomede House on some business, but the deputy did not have any further details. Having had a long and brutal day, the party retired to the relative comfort of the Bountiful Catch Inn, and planned to spend the evening recuperating whilst waiting for the Mayor to return to town.

An uneventful night passed, but the party was quick to discover that the Mayor had not returned during the night. The deputy, while admittedly concerned, did not seem overworried, dismissing it as an uncommon, but not unprecedented, act by the mayor.

The party remained unconvinced, and so decided to drop by the Mayor’s home in the hopes of catching him there. But, only a locked house awaited them.

A locked house with an open second-story window.

A few minutes later at the urging of his new-found friends, Ramirez Saul could be seen nimbly climbing up the front of the Mayor’s house. A closed shutter proved to be a hindrance, but soon enough Ramirez was inside the house, calling out for Mayor Greedle. He yelled down that he would throw down a rope, but Torque convinced him of the wisdom of going downstairs and opening the front door instead.

Mayor Greedle’s house was in good shape, however, the back door stood wide open and the sitting room for receiving guests clearly showed signs of a struggle. Of the Mayor himself, there was no sign.

Torque and Lashmar went out the open door, scanning the ground for tracks as they left. Sure enough, tell-tale signs of at least two humanoids carrying another between them were found. The party swiftly followed the spoor, which led them quickly back to Undiomede House, where the tracks disappeared.

Once again, the party searched the house, but of Mayor Greedle, there was no sign. However, this time Haza noticed a slime trail from one of the slug spawn creatures. The trail emerged from a hole in a wall on the lower level and led back into the Central Hall, disappearing at the base of one of the ancient stone menhirs that supported the dome above.

Immediately, the party set into discovering the secret of the stone. Torquemada looked for secret catches and pressure plates, Ramirez tried moving the 30-ton stone monolith by force, and Haza and Lashmar tried arcane and divine means to solve this puzzle.

However, the silent stone resisted their efforts. There seemed to be no mechanical or magical egress into the rock.

It was then that Torquemada noticed a very slight depression in the face of the stone- a space that was just large enough for a medallion to fit into. A medallion like that found on the Vizier’s body the day before.

Torquemada dug out the medallion and touched it to the rock, where it remained attached to the stone. There was a faint stirring in the air, and suddenly, a portal of smoky gray mist appeared in the face of the stone pillar.

A phase door!

But where did it lead?

There was only one way to find out, and the party stepped into the misty doorway and disappeared…